


Thunderbolt Fantasy Toriken Yuki:  Withered Song

by saturnalius



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Divergent, Extreme Danger Bug, Juan Can Yun tries to make friends, Lin Xue Ya found some prey, butterflies are deadly, everyone wants to talk about swords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 42,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnalius/pseuds/saturnalius
Summary: After the bizarre battle against Lóu Zhèn Jiè, Shāng Bù Huàn and Làng Wū Yáo stay at the Dān clan shrine  hoping for a little bit of respite after dealing with the Seven Blasphemous Deaths. But when the Index and swords are involved, nothing is ever so easy.Huò Shì Míng Huáng has sent a deadly butterfly assassin to Dōng Lí. But she's not the only foreign arrival. A familiar face seeks out Shāng and Làng while a new conniving and coercive imperial from Xī Yōu, one who has caught Lǐn Xuě Yā's watchful eye, has come to retrieve a particular songbird.Can Shāng and company stop the butterfly assassin, evade the new imperial, and somehow survive whatever Lǐn Xuě Yā is plotting?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Mountain Clash

**Author's Note:**

> I got impatient waiting for Season 3. I'm dubbing this Season 2.5, a tale set in Dong Li directly after Season 2 as a sort of "What could happen in Season 3?" Please enjoy!
> 
> Note: contains spoilers for Movie 2. Watch this movie. It's gooood.

Sounds of swords striking rang out across the courtyard of the mountain shrine. Well one sword and one painted stick.

“Dān Style!” Juǎn Cán Yún commanded, drawing his sword upright. “Eightfold Lotus!” He swung the sword broadly, attempting to catch his sparring partner off guard. If his partner had been anyone but Shāng Bù Huàn, perhaps he would’ve been successful but his attack was quickly thwarted.

“You’re getting faster but still you need more strength behind your movements.” Shāng shifted his stance, smacking Juǎn’s sword with his own and knocking it out of the blond’s hand. “And you need a better grip on your blade.”

Juǎn huffed, plucking the sword from the ground. “Spears are so much easier and more balanced! But swords still are something else. I still want to continue the Dān Clan traditions, but the sword just doesn’t feel natural yet.”

“Anything can be used as a weapon with enough work,” Shāng consoled him. “Wū Yáo has sound, you have a sword, and I have---”

“---anything you want to wield,” Juǎn completed the sentence. “But not everyone can slice someone up with their hair or blow someone’s rib cage out with a stick!”

Shāng laughed. “Wū Yáo said much the same thing when we first started sparring.”

Juǎn peered up at the roof, spotting Làng Wū Yáo plucking the pipa as he leaned against the awning. He played a slower tune, listening to the notes as he watched the pair in the courtyard. “So he  _ does  _ talk! And he can hear, right?”

“His hearing’s better than either of ours combined,” Shāng confirmed, sheathing his sword with a wooden clunk.

Juǎn sheathed his blade, folding his arms with a huff. “I tried to talk to him in the hallway. You know, I thought ‘maybe since he’s Shāng’s friend, I could try to be his friend too!’ but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge me. Ever since you both started staying here, it’s always the same!”

“Did he look at you?” Shāng questioned.

Juǎn stared back at Shāng, thinking back to each encounter. “He didn’t at first, but he has lately.”

Shāng smiled.

Juǎn stared some more. “What’s so funny? Wait, did I do something wrong?”

“Wū Yáo doesn’t quite communicate like you and I do. Took me a long time to figure that one out,” Shāng explained. “And if Líng Yá didn’t insult you or criticize you, and if he's actually started looking at you, then Wū Yáo has acknowledged you as someone he can be around without worry.”

Juǎn peered back up at the roof, seeing that Làng still continued to play quietly. “Without worry? Is he worried about something?”

“He has a rare supernatural gift,” Shāng replied. “His voice is enchanted, so he only talks when necessary or around people he knows his voice won’t affect. He can get chatty around me, but around other people? He doesn’t talk unless he has something important to say.”

“So it’s all motions and stuff?” Juǎn questioned.

“Líng Yá does most of the talking, and Wū Yáo really only expresses himself when singing,” Shāng replied. “The rest is subtle. I couldn’t understand him for a good while until we learned to communicate mostly wordlessly. Just give it time. He can be a bit distant to people he doesn’t know. He’s been through a lot so it takes him time to warm up to someone.”

Juǎn peered up at the musician. He wasn’t exactly good with subtleties. He was more the outgoing type who usually stuck his foot in his mouth. He did that a number of times with Dān Fěi and likely would do the same around Làng. Juǎn simply wasn’t certain how to talk to someone who generally didn’t talk in reply. Perhaps he could watch Shāng a bit.

“Hey, Wū Yáo!” Shāng called out to the red bard. “How about a spar?”

Làng plucked the final note of the chorus. The offer sounded quite enticing. After everything they’d been through in their battle against Xiào Kuáng Juǎn, Lóu Zhèn Jiè, and the Seven Blasphemous Deaths, the calmer moments had almost felt jarring. His life had been mostly battles as long as he could remember, music filling the voids between them. But singing here felt irresponsible and plucking the songs only worked so well.

He leapt off the building, Líng Yá still in his hands. He peered at Juǎn for a moment. The blond was trying so hard to be his friend, but Làng had no idea how to handle someone like him. Juǎn rambled a lot and was highly excitable, everything opposite from what he was accustomed to. Shāng and Mù Tiān Mìng were both on the calmer side. He found Dān Fěi easier to understand, but Juǎn was still more a source of confusion.

Juǎn peered back. Làng was looking at him again. That was acknowledgement, right? He was trying to fish for words to say at least something.

“You two were going at it quite a bit,” Líng Yá commented. “Enough to make this guy jealous he wasn’t involved in the spaaaaaa------”

Làng violently pulled the strings to quiet Líng Yá before the pipa blabbed too much again. 

Shāng laughed, placing a hand on Làng’s shoulder. He knew Làng well enough to know what was going through the bard’s head. The quiet could be unnerving, especially in a new land and staying at a place with people he wasn’t familiar with. In a way, Shāng felt it too. It was only a matter of time before Huò Shì Míng Huáng sent someone new, or somehow Xī Yōu sent someone else after them, and the silence could be deafening.

“You could spar with Juǎn,” Shāng suggested.

“W-with me?!” Juǎn stammered. He stared at Làng, who simply peered back at him calmly. He knew nothing about how Làng fought, nor did Làng appear to have any weapon. But somehow he stood on even ground with Shāng. “Well maybe if I still had my spear….”

“Miss Hù Yìn Shī would be angry if you abandoned the sword,” Shāng pointed out.

Juǎn frowned. Shāng did have a point. Dān Fěi would be angry with him. He had to be diligent about this. “Okay, let’s do this!”

Làng nodded. He had seen Juǎn spar with Shāng quite a bit recently, understanding Juǎn’s combat style by listening to the sounds. There was an imbalance in the blond’s steps, indicating that he was more accustomed to another style of fighting. The spear, much like Shāng had mentioned. Làng could test the waters with Juǎn for a light spar, then perhaps challenge Shāng to a spar for something more intensive later on.

Shāng patted Làng on the shoulder before stepping back and out of their way.

Juǎn drew his sword, taking a stance typical of the Dān Style. He stared at Làng who hadn’t changed his stance or drew any recognizable weapon from within his robes. Juǎn wrinkled his nose. “Aren’t you going to draw a sword or something?”

“I don’t think Blondie has ever fought against someone like you, Làng,” Líng Yá said. “You gonna give him a taste of what you can do?”

Làng couldn’t claim that many people fought like him. The only other person with sonic combat was Mù, and she was still in Xī Yōu. He flicked his fingers across the strings, creating two sonic attacks that bounced off the ground on either side of Juǎn.

The blond stared. That was unexpected, and he had no idea how to fight against sound. Fighting against Shāng’s reckless qi was hard enough. Did everyone Shāng knew from Xī Yōu fight with crazy abilities?

“You gonna stand there and gawk or attack?” Líng Yá egged him on.

Juǎn shook his head. He couldn’t let unusual skills jar him, else he wouldn’t be able to help Dān Fěi defend the shrine and that sword that sealed Yāo Tú Lì within it. He leapt forward much like one would with a spear, changing his stance just enough to swing at Làng. The bard still hadn’t drawn a weapon, but as Làng finally moved, Juǎn could see he  _ already had one _ .

Làng quickly and easily blocked the attack with the side of the pipa. Shifting his weight, he drew his foot upward, kicking Juǎn’s right arm to drive the blade away. He pushed the blond away with his foot, driving him several feet backwards until he skidded with a stop.

Juǎn regained his footing, shifting his stance to leap forward once again. Làng once again blocked him with very little movement before pushing him back away. The bard certainly fought very differently than Shāng. His actions were very refined and controlled, very little wasted energy in every step.

Juǎn glanced over, finding Dān Fěi had joined them in the courtyard. Now he had to make himself look skilled with the sword, but someone like Làng was a challenge. And he wanted to impress Dān Fěi with the skills he’d learned. “Alright! Prepare yourself, Làng! Dān Style: Frozen Sunrise!” Spell circles formed behind him as he fired off several successive blasts of ice shards one at a time.

Light on his feet, Làng dodged each one as it struck the ground, deflecting another with a sonic attack.

“Well that kid is actually skilled!” Líng Yá commented.

Làng hadn’t seen him use that sort of attack before, but it wasn’t exactly the most potent of attacks. Then again, Làng was also used to traveling with someone with ridiculous qi mastery like Shāng. He leapt upward, dodging the attacks in a zigzag pattern before driving the pipa forward. He suddenly stopped only a few inches away from Juǎn, who had barely moved to guard.

He reached forward, grasping Juǎn’s sword arm. “Wait.”

Juǎn prepared to fuss until he noticed that Làng was suddenly no longer looking at him but instead past Shāng towards the entrance of the shrine. “Something wrong?”

Shāng peered at Làng then over his shoulder.

At the top of the stairs appeared a rather battered young man in white robes with brilliant red accents along the sleeves. His clothing was torn and bloodied, his appearance completely frazzled. He glanced panicked over his shoulder before stumbling onto the courtyard.

Shāng caught him before he fell to the ground.

Dān Fěi rushed forward, concerned. She recognized the robes as a seal guardian from the Vermillion Fortress. “What happened?”

The young man sputtered. “The… the Vermillion Fortress. It has fallen.”


	2. An unusual assault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seal guardian arrives from the Vermillion Fortress to find help after a strange assault by deadly butterflies.

It felt like an all-too-familiar scene. A seal guardian badly wounded and fleeing from something dangerous that was probably after some sacred sword that may or may not be real. Just this time it wasn’t Dān Fei, and the Xuán Guǐ Zōng were long since dead. Shāng Bù Huàn carried the guardian inside the Dān seal shrine, tending to his injuries with some qi.

Dān Fěi knit her brow in concern as the seal guardian leaned gingerly on the table. “Are you well enough to tell us what happened?”

“My name is Qīng,” the man introduced himself. He stared at the table trying to compose himself. “I wish I could explain what exactly happened, but it’s very strange.”

“We’re kind of used to strange,” Shāng admitted.

Qīng frowned a bit. “Well it came suddenly through a window. It was like a large swarm of butterflies that attacked suddenly and violently, heading right for the sealed vault. We couldn’t fend them off. There were just too many of them and they tore the place apart. The master sent me here. He heard of someone who could handle sacred swords and the Dān clan might be able to help.”

Shāng frowned some more. Hù Yìn Shī fortresses had been trouble lately. They didn’t seem as impenetrable as he’d hoped, but he also didn’t have much hope for seal shrines. They were ransacked in Xī Yōu, but in Dōng Lí, they were generally more respected. A pity that those who didn’t respect them fell into the dangerous category.

“Butterflies?” Dān Fěi questioned. “How strange.”

“Only somewhat,” Shāng knit his brow.

“How is a swarm of killer butterflies  _ not _ strange?” Juǎn Cán Yún frowned sharply.

“Huò Shì Míng Huáng and his buzzy bitch brigade,” Líng Yá answered crudely.

“Huh?” Juǎn was terribly confused.

Shāng leaned on the table. “I was thinking the same thing. A group of insect-based assassins based in Xī Yōu. They control everything from scorpions to cicadas, spiders, and locusts. We’ve encountered a few, and the one who stole swords recently was a member of that group. We’ve been fighting against them for some time.”

Làng frowned. He didn’t want to think of cicadas.

“Xī Yōu? But the Wasteland of Spirits makes travel between here and there impossible,” Qīng pointed out.

“Yeah about that…” Líng Yá said.

“These two are from Xī Yōu,” Dān Fěi indicated Shāng and Làng. “They would be most knowledgeable about this group, if it is the same one. What do you think they’re doing here? Do you think there might be more?”

“Typically we encounter only one assassin at a time, sometimes with minions,” Shāng replied. “They’re after sorcerous swords, and since we have all the ones in Xī Yōu, they must be looking elsewhere to obtain them for their villainous purposes. But given that swords from the War of Fading Dusk are half the time fake, the assassin could be walking out with a dud.”

“Always so quick to dismiss a sword but you have an entire arsenal of them!” Juǎn pointed out. “Even the one that Fěi was guarding turned out to be real!”

“The story about the sword’s origins and history were a bit different, but it did end up being real. Yet we’ve encountered several fake swords in our journey, haven’t we Wū Yáo?” Shāng said. “There was that one that turned out to be a melted pipe.”

“The modified farming hoe,” Làng recalled.

“The broom painted silver,” Shāng added.

“Don’t forget that sword forged to look like a relic but was just a chunk of iron!” Líng Yá said. “Even fooled the Imperials!”

Dān Fěi knit her brow slightly. “I can see why you were so quick to dismiss the Tiān Xíng Jiàn when we first met. But what still worries me, Sir Shāng, is that if there is a deadly assassin looking to use some sacred swords for evil, what if the sword really could bring disaster to Dōng Lí? Or even the whole world?”

“That is what worries me, especially if Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s group is involved,” Shāng agreed. “There is a good chance the assassin is still in Dōng Lí, probably looking for the Sorcerous Sword Index as well.”

“Well then we should go find them before they do something crazy!” Juǎn quickly suggested. “If they’re still here, we can stop them, right?!”

“Cán Yún! You shouldn’t be so reckless,” Dān Fěi protested.

“It’s better than waiting around for this assassin to come here!” Juǎn countered. “And besides, we need someone here to protect  _ this  _ sword and you’re much better at it. I could take Shāng with me!”

“Actually Wū Yáo would be a better choice,” Shāng said. “The assassins are capable of creating illusions. I’m terrible at seeing through them, but Wū Yáo can hear them. He wouldn’t be deceived by them.”

Juǎn peered at the red bard who hadn’t really moved much since they sat down at the table. He had the talking pipa on his lap as he quietly listened to the conversation, only speaking once about false swords they had encountered. Líng Yá had done more talking than he had.

But it was Shāng’s statement that had Juǎn more confused. Shāng had said Làng’s hearing was supernatural, but to hear illusions? It seemed crazier than the journey they had to stop the Xuán Guǐ Zōng. Then again, he knew close to nothing about Làng in general. 

“If the assassin attempted to come here, there’s little place they could hide without us noticing, so I could stop the attack with Miss Hù Yìn Shī,” Shāng added.

Làng had to admit that was a plan more suited to Shāng’s skills. His friend had fallen to illusions a few times, scorpion dumplings, cicada tea, spider leg wontons. As there were very few people at the shrine, an assassin would be easy to pick out and fight. Hopefully the assassin wouldn’t disguise food as something deadly else Shāng could be having a crunchy butterfly dinner.

Shāng glanced at Làng. The bard was definitely thinking about the times Shāng had nearly eaten bugs.

“I suppose you do have a point, Sir Shāng,” Dān Fěi conceded. “If there are survivors from the attack, having another seal guardian will let them know we’re here to help. If you would be willing, Sir Làng?”

Làng peered at her across the table. He still wasn’t accustomed to such formalities, but neither Shāng nor Mù Tiān Mìng were ones to use such honorifics. And while he once held a title within the imperial court, he didn’t care for it.

He nodded in reply.

“Wonderful,” Dān Fěi smiled. “Let’s make sure Sir Qīng gets some good rest in the meantime.” As Shāng and Juǎn helped Qīng out of the room, Dān Fěi placed a hand on Làng’s shoulder, stopping him before he could follow the others out. “I hate to be imposing, but I have a favor to ask of you, Sir Làng.”

Làng turned. She hadn’t placed a hand on his shoulder since he’d started staying there, but she’d likely seen Shāng do it as a way to communicate with him. It certainly had caught his attention.

“Please keep an eye on Cán Yún and make sure he makes it back safely,” Dān Fěi requested.

“What exactly do you think will happen?” Líng Yá questioned from Làng’s back. “Do you think we’ll just ditch the kid?”

“N-no not at all!” Dān Fěi quickly protested. “You’re Sir Shāng’s dear friend. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing. It’s Cán Yún I worry about. I nearly lost him before, when he lost his eye. He was protecting me, but his wounds got so bad, I was certain he died. I can’t think of losing him again.”

Líng Yá huffed. “It’s like you want us to babysit---”

Làng flicked the pipa in the face over his shoulder. The thought had crossed his mind as Juǎn was rather young. He probably didn’t have as much battle experience as he and Shāng did. Làng was likely an unusual case. He was trained as far back as he could remember, sharpened to be a supernatural blade. It was the abilities he had that made him different than most.

But that attack that Juǎn had used in the courtyard. The kid had some skill, but he wasn’t certain how effective it would be against one of the assassins. If they hadn’t moved on to a new location already.

Dān Fěi frowned a bit, staring at Làng’s hand at his side instead of his face. “It’s not as though…” She wasn’t sure what Làng was actually thinking with such a sudden request. “He can fight quite well. He used to fight with a spear but he wanted to carry on my clan’s style of fighting. I know he won’t be dead weight. He can just jump into things too quickly sometimes, and that makes me concerned.”

That explained the imbalance in Juǎn’s steps, the talk about spears, and what Dān Fěi truly had worried about. These were Shāng’s friends here in Dōng Lí, even if Làng felt awkward around them. He wasn’t exactly good with people, especially ones he didn’t know well. It took him a while to open up to Shāng, but perhaps he could give Juǎn a chance. The blond  _ had _ been trying to befriend him rather desperately. “Very well,” Làng said.

Dān Fěi quickly looked up at him, her face brightening. As distant as Làng could be, she knew he was a good person. “Thank you, Sir Làng!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, Lang will figure out how to people. Probably not. He spends most of his time around Shang and Mu that other people must make him feel awkward. I don't think that in 10 years since Movie2 that Lang actually has figured out how to people at all.
> 
> There are some references here when Shang mentions different insect assassins. Of course we know the scorpions but here are the others:  
> \- Spiders: When I considered the assassin's 'bug' for this story, spider was at the top of the list. Butterfly ended up winning  
> \- Cicadas: My other TBF story "A song of swords" features a cicada assassin  
> \- Locusts: Huo Shi Ming Huang's name literally means "a plague of moths and locusts"
> 
> I am also endlessly amused at the idea that Shang, Mu, and Lang had encountered a lot of duds trying to collect the Xi You swords.


	3. The eagle and the crow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the others are dealing with a mysterious new assassin, Lin has found a new prey to entertain his unyielding boredom.

Lǐn Xuě Yā leaned against the windowframe, taking a long drag from his pipe. He had returned to the imperial magistrate’s office after the last escapade, hoping to find a new prey to keep him occupied. With the former location slain thanks to Xiào Kuáng Juǎn, he had to deceive his way into the new office once again to place himself as an envoy. It was hardly a difficult task, using a bit of illusionary magics combined with actual information about how he was the only one who managed to survive the main attack. The officials who had been overtaken by the Night of Mourning corroborated his story that he had aided in their rescue.

But that was the easy part. Lǐn now found himself quite bored. The magistrate’s office was now suspicious of anyone from Xī Yōu after Xiào’s attack, and those foreign imperials were likely to have something Lǐn would want to steal. The Dōng Lí imperials were too busy with other problems to be anything but boring, and none of them ever wanted to hear about Xī Yōu or entertain one of their envoys ever again.

That left Lǐn without any prey. The evil organizations that lurked in Dōng Lí’s shadows hadn’t really given him anything interesting. Shāng had all but disappeared into the mountains. And Xī Yōu hadn’t sent anyone over. Yet. Perhaps he could con someone else into stirring up trouble for his own entertainment, but there was something about the trouble that Shāng attracted that had been much better prey than some schmuck off the street.

The false position with the magistrate’s office had given him a glimpse of priceless swords and pieces, things quickly stole away after crafting quick and convincing replicas. Yet that only served for so much entertainment. Perhaps if this boredom kept up, he’d claim he had a job elsewhere or use some illusions then disappear without a trace as he often did. He could always go follow Shāng and see what trouble he attracted, perhaps annoy Làng at the same time. That was always entertaining.

“S-s-sir Magistrate!” the lawman nearly stumbled into the room in a panic. “There’s….. There’s an envoy from Xī Yōu! He’s demanding to speak with you! S-should I send him in?”

Lǐn could hear the magistrate nearly choke on air, even from his distant perch on the window frame. Perhaps this  _ would  _ be an interesting day after all.

The magistrate slammed his hands on the desk. “Absolutely not.”

Lǐn crossed one leg over the other as he took a drag from the pipe. “Perhaps we should not be so hasty, Sir Magistrate.”

The magistrate gritted his teeth, staring at Lin’s rather relaxed position in the windowsill. “That’s the last thing I expected to hear from you, Guǐ Niǎo. How can you be calm about this?”

Lǐn tapped a finger on his pipe as he hummed. “If there were a corrupt official in this office, could you damn the whole of Dōng Lí? Perhaps that Xiào Kuáng Juǎn had simply been a poison in the imperial court of Xī Yōu.”

The magistrate wrinkled his nose sharply.

Lǐn considered the idea of using illusions for coercion but the verbal method was much more entertaining. He tapped his pipe against his knee. “It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. You could always have him leave his sword and whatever men he may have outside to avoid any trouble. And if he turns out to be corrupt, you can simply send him on his way.” And Lǐn would pursue him later for his own entertainment.

The magistrate curled his fingers on his desk with a bit of a huffed sigh. “You have a point. Very well. Do as he suggests.” He motioned the lawman out of the office before settling back down behind the desk. “Guǐ Niǎo, at least make yourself presentable.”

Lǐn hopped off the windowsill, folding an arm across him as he flipped his hair over his shoulder. “I am always presentable.” This was going well already, and without any illusionary coercion. As the doors opened, Lǐn already found himself peering at the envoy in anticipation. This could easily be his next prey.

The envoy was relatively young with long layered reddish brown hair tied together with gold filigree at his waist. He sported the red and white imperial colors of Xī Yōu along with the proper hat which he accented with gold and silver feather filigree. A number of gold rings peeked out beneath his long formal sleeves. He peered at the magistrate with piercing golden eyes before politely taking a bow. “My name is Yīng Shòu Liè, envoy of Her Highness Cháo Fēng. Thank you for taking the time to hear me out despite.... hesitance.”

“Do understand that the last envoy from Xī Yōu caused a bit of trouble here,” the magistrate politely informed the envoy. “Hesitance is necessary to ensure that history doesn't repeat itself, especially with another envoy arriving so soon after the incident.”

Yīng wrinkled his nose a bit as he stood back up. He knew of the previous envoy. Most looked up to Xiào as an official that led a fierce force against the Sword-plundering Nemesis, but Yīng never did. He suspected something off about Xiào back when they had met, before Yīng overtook his position. When the stolen items had returned with the lawmen under Xiào’s name, Yīng knew that he had been correct about the sneaky Fox. “Xiào Kuáng Juǎn was a disgrace to Her Majesty’s court. I would never dare stain the name of Xī Yōu as it seems he so thoroughly did.”

Lǐn was nearly taken aback by the sharpness and the lack of hesitation in the envoy’s voice. He tapped on his pipe. “Quite the bold statement, Sir Envoy, even without knowing what has transpired.”

Yīng peered at Lin. The white-haired man had been staring at Yīng since the moment he walked in, smoking his pipe and watching him with those sharp crimson eyes. Lǐn dressed much differently than the rest of the lawmen but he seemed to be here in some sort of official capacity. Such unusual attire showing far more skin than was appropriate, but perhaps fashion was different in Dōng Lí. “It seems that even on an official assignment, he couldn’t behave himself honorably. I am here as his proper replacement.”

Lǐn observed Ying, intrigued by the envoy’s boldness. He wasn’t sure how much Yīng was telling the truth, but there was a haughty arrogance in his words that quickly caught the thief’s attention. “Then you are here to try to continue the hunt for Shāng Bù Huàn?”

“While Shāng Bù Huàn’s offenses are known far and wide across Xī Yōu, I am not here specifically for him,” Yīng replied. “There is instead another I seek. Her Majesty’s most prized possession, the Court Virtuoso by the name of Làng Wū Yáo.”

Lǐn nearly dropped his pipe. That was the last target he expected a Xī Yōu envoy to seek, nor did he expect that Làng actually had a  _ title _ . He didn’t know Làng all that well, but that blabbering pipa did once mention that Làng had once sung for the princess and leaving her somehow involved the entire Xī Yōu army pursuing him. “A Court Virtuoso? This is the first I’ve heard of someone like this.”

“Some time ago, Shāng Bù Huàn stole the Court Virtuoso from the palace,” Yīng explained. “Làng Wū Yáo has an unusual voice. Just hearing his song can potentially draw someone into a daze or cause uncontrollable euphoria, but for Her Majesty, his voice was divine. No other musician has been able to fill the void left behind when he was stolen.”

The magistrate stared at the envoy. The idea of a voice that could affect people like that seemed a little far fetched, but after hearing the stories surrounding Xiào’s actions, perhaps this wasn’t too unbelievable.

“And what makes you believe he’s here in Dōng Lí?” Lǐn questioned before the magistrate had a chance to. “It hardly seems like a musician would be capable of crossing the Wasteland of Spirits, even if dragged unwillingly by Shāng Bù Huàn.”

“Làng Wū Yáo’s whereabouts have been unknown for some time. He disappeared suddenly and inexplicably,” Yīng replied. “He is capable of combat, and he has been seen in the company of Shāng Bù Huàn as his accomplice ever since he was stolen.”

“Hmmm,” Lǐn hummed. “Someone capable of combat hardly seems like the type to go with his abductor across such a dangerous land.”

“We’re certain that Shāng Bù Huàn has coerced him somehow, and now Làng Wū Yáo is rarely seen out of his company,” Yīng said. “It is possible that villain is using the Virtuoso’s unique voice as a weapon or wants to keep a supernatural musician for himself to further break apart the order of society in our country.”

The magistrate leaned on his desk. The more he heard about Shāng, the more he was confused. He was pegged as a fugitive and a villain, but he had saved the lawmen when Xiào used a sorcerous sword on them. But now it seemed like he’d stolen not only swords but a person? It was strange that he was just hearing about this now. Something wasn’t quite lining up, but given the sudden disappearance of a musician, perhaps it simply wasn’t known how he got here or if he really was here.

Regardless, this Làng Wū Yáo sounded potentially dangerous. And if it would heal relations with Xī Yōu after the atrocities that Xiào had committed, perhaps this would be something worthwhile. He peered at Lin. “What path do you suggest we take, Guǐ Niǎo?”

Lǐn flipped his bangs over his shoulder, rubbing at his chin. “We should search for him,” he replied. “While Shāng Bù Huàn did not appear to have any companions during prior encounters, perhaps the musician is still within Dōng Lí somewhere. I have some ideas of where to start.”

This was far too easy, but it was only the start of learning what Yīng had to offer him as prey. He knew quite well what Làng was capable of doing and where he was currently. He’d watched him win a singing contest with a dragon, fight with him, and fought against him. He also knew that Làng had crossed the Wasteland to find his best friend, not because he was coerced. Toying with Yīng  _ would  _ be entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name is a reference to the name meanings  
> \- Lin Xue Ya: austere snow crow  
> \- Ying Shou Lie: eagle hunting


	4. A different target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Yīng Shòu Liè isn't the only one who has crossed the Wasteland of Spirits recently

Yīng Shòu Liè had never been outside of Xī Yōu, but thankfully he had a rather willing and knowledgeable guide. He hadn’t figured out Lǐn Xuě Yā quite yet, though the man was introduced as an imperial inspector. Lǐn seemed rather eccentric and dressed in a strange and unusual style, but the magistrate seemed to think highly of his opinion and his suggested plan of action. 

The plan seemed sound enough. As Làng Wū Yáo had not been seen with Shāng Bù Huàn, the pair was possibly not traveling together. This meant they would need to seek out tales of musicians around the area and pursue the most unusual. With the effects of Làng’s songs, strange occurrences would follow him.

But there was more that Yīng hadn’t told them at the magistrates office. Làng wasn’t coerced, though that sharp shift in personality had him suspicious of what truly had happened. The musician had left of his own accord, turning against Xiào Kuáng Juǎn and joining Shāng as his accomplice. Làng and Shāng were rarely seen apart, but they were independent people. Làng could very well be acting on his own or perhaps had traveled separately from Shāng. If Yīng could find Làng before he could reunite with Shāng, he could coerce Làng to return to the princess before that Sword-plundering Nemesis even realized what happened.

But first, Yīng had to figure out what the story was here. Lǐn seemed rather knowledgeable about Shāng Bù Huàn from working with Xiào but had never heard of Làng Wū Yáo. Lǐn could be withholding information, but perhaps Làng and Shāng truly hadn’t been seen together.

Lǐn’s mind had been stirring with ideas since the envoy had first appeared in the office. He knew well where Làng and Shāng were, but leading Yīng right to them was hardly any fun. He wanted to learn more about Yīng and to toy with him until he could figure out what made the envoy tick. He seemed to frown upon Xiào, and perhaps the Fox was actually unusual in his criminal behaviors. But that didn’t mean that Yīng couldn’t be an entertaining prey.

Their destination was far away from the Dān Clan shrine in the mountains, far away from where Làng actually was staying. The musician also didn’t match Làng’s description in the least. “My sources tell me of a musician playing unfamiliar songs in this town, tunes that no one has ever heard. There does not seem to be euphoria or the like, but people are placing money into the musician’s bowl quite frequently.”

“That could be the effects of his voice,” Yīng observed. “He could be using songs to coerce people to give him money. I do believe he had a somewhat unscrupulous past before he became Her Highness’s prized gem.”

Lǐn was learning more about Làng than he ever expected to. He tucked the information away for his own purposes, not that trying to steal anything from Làng would be fun. The bard had a strong sense of justice, much like Shāng did, but he tended to act more aggressively on it. Lǐn preferred more sinister and evil targets, as they were much more entertaining. “So, Sir Ying, how  _ does _ one become a Court Virtuoso with a darkened past?”

“Her Highness has a very specific type of entertainment she enjoys,” Yīng replied. “A musician must have a divine voice but also must continue to sing and play while fighting for their life against an onslaught of soldiers. If one can do so, then one can earn the title of Court Virtuoso.”

Lǐn tapped on his pipe. This entire empire was twisted and sadistic. “That is quite the twisted form of entertainment.”

“I am not one to judge her choices in entertainment,” Yīng said dismissively. “Even with such demands, Làng Wū Yáo stood out above the rest. I am told he never once stopped singing, never missed a note, and never was wounded during a performance.”

“That is quite the talented bard,” Lǐn hummed. “To think someone like that could be stolen so easily.”

“Thus the coercion,” Yīng pointed out. “Even separated, it’s possible whatever Shāng Bù Huàn did to him would remain. He may very well try to fight against us.”

“How  _ dangerous _ ,” Lǐn said, knowing full well about how fierce Làng could be in battle. “But as you can see, Sir Envoy, I am unarmed. It would fall to you to fight. Perhaps we should’ve brought some lawmen with us.”

“Not a problem,” Yīng said assuredly. “I am well prepared to handle him in combat.”

Lǐn could check arrogance off as a potential thing to steal. He could feed into it, make it something more enticing to steal later on. “Then my life is in your capable hands, Sir Ying.” He could practically feel the arrogance oozing off the young envoy. “Ah, here we are.”

Before them stretched a rather large town. The marketplace was bustling with activity. The smell of food quickly reached them, as did the shouts of merchants to peddle wares. People went about their afternoon business, not paying much mind to Lǐn and Yīng as they wove through the crowd.

“I hear music,” Yīng announced, pushing his way forward towards a crowd gathered at the end of the street. It was a plucked tune, though there was no one singing just yet. It was one that was popular in Xī Yōu, a tune unlikely to have made it to Dōng Lí given the vast separation between the two empires. “Pardon me. Official business. Move out of the way.”

Lǐn had to admit for someone so arrogant, he certainly had his manners.

The crowd parted to show the source of the music was a woman. She had black hair pulled up into a top knot with a stylish loop and a golden peacock hair ornament. Her long blue robe had a scalloped peacock pattern. "The land is cloaked in deepest blue. The shadows of eagles across the moon----” She paused in plucking her guqin’s strings to peer up at the man who had interrupted her performance. 

Mù Tiān Mìng recognized Ying’s appearance quite quickly. Imperials did tend to stand out that way, especially high-ranking ones. Yīng was much younger than the rumors had said, one that likely wouldn’t recognize her as an accomplice to Shāng Bù Huàn. Since he and Làng had left Xī Yōu, she had mostly stayed in the shadows, gathering information and learning what she could of the empire’s activities until the pair returned. Problem was, they  _ hadn’t  _ returned and there  _ was  _ trouble brewing.

That trouble was likely the imperial standing before her, looking terribly confused. He didn’t look like he’d attack, but if he did, a battle here in this crowd would be deadly for the innocent civilians caught in the middle. She wanted to find Làng and Shāng, not catch a town in the crossfire.

“Did you want to request a song, sir?” she questioned him.

“Where did you learn that song?” Yīng demanded. “Where are you from?”

“Here and there,” she replied vaguely. She didn’t know the names of towns in Dōng Lí enough to give a better answer. “I wander quite a bit. I learned it from another musician some time ago. Would you like to hear the full song? I would be happy to sing it to you.” She plucked a few notes on the strings.

“I would like to know more of the one who taught you this song,” Yīng demanded as politely as possible. “Where is he now?”

Mù shook her head. “Hard to say. It was some time ago.”

Yīng wrinkled his nose at her, reaching forward with his hand full of rings, only to wrinkle his nose even more as he felt Lǐn tug on his shoulder.

“Now now, it’s impolite to crowd a woman so aggressively, Sir Ying,” Lǐn chided him.

Mù watched as the white-haired man pulled the imperial away. That  _ was  _ him, then. Yīng Shòu Liè. So he made it here faster than she’d expected. This could be a problem.

Yīng pried his shoulder out of Lin’s grasp, staring at the taller white-haired man with those piercing golden eyes. “That was the best lead that we had. Are you trying to help or hinder our search, Sir Guǐ Niǎo?”

Lǐn flipped his hair. “What an accusation, Sir Envoy! Why would I even do such a thing! I would like to see this Virtuoso returned as much as you would like to do so.” He peered at the envoy. What a scowl. He truly had gotten under Ying’s skin so quickly. “Perhaps the manner of questioning is different in Xī Yōu than here. Being too forward with a lady might result in getting slapped or kicked in rather unfortunate locations.”

Lǐn recognized the few lyrics he’d heard. It was the same song that Làng had sung when fighting against the Death King. It didn’t seem like a coincidence that she was singing the same lyrics that Làng had. The question was, what was her connection to him? Were there more friends that Shāng had failed to mention?

Yīng quickly regained his composure. He was here representing Cháo Fēng. Being irate with someone who was working as a representative of Dōng Lí would be unbecoming. 200 years had separated the two countries. There were likely customs that were different here than back home. He would simply have to mind his manners and not get too forward. Shāng was a slippery prey, and Làng likely was even more so. No one had been able to return him to the palace. “You have a point. Perhaps we should question her more politely.”

“Is this song so unique?” Lǐn questioned. “Perhaps it is simply something similar to what you’ve heard.”

“It is a song from Xī Yōu,” Yīng replied. “One favored greatly by Her Majesty. The only way she would know it is if Làng Wū Yáo had taught her.” He turned back towards the crowd, finding that the musician was no longer there, taking her songs and her bowl of coins with her.

Lǐn puffed the smoke from his pipe. Mù had packed up but she hadn’t left the scene so easily. With her guqin on her back and a bowl of coins in her hand, she headed into the crowd before disappearing into the sea of people much later than Yīng had perceived.

It was such a simple trick to deceive the senses so easily, and it let him toy with Yīng a bit longer. If that woman was somehow connected with Làng and Shāng, he couldn’t let Yīng get to her quite yet. Where would the fun be if he let Yīng catch Làng so quickly? Lǐn had to be careful, however. If Yīng possessed something that countered illusions like Xiào did, the illusionary smoke would only work so many times. “Perhaps you frightened her away.”

Yīng folded his arms. Perhaps this was why Xiào had failed so miserably, aside from being a total crook. He relied on tactics that worked in Xī Yōu but not in Dōng Lí. Going on a hunt wasn’t going to work. “Perhaps Xī Yōu’s methods do not work here.” He didn’t climb the ranks to envoy to fail so easily in a foreign land. “Instead, let’s follow the song. Eventually it will lead us to Làng Wū Yáo.” He would not disappoint Cháo Fēng. He would bring her the songbird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mu Tian Ming finally arrives! I've speculated a few times what she might've been doing since both Shang and Lang had left Xi You. Lin did tease we would find out in Season 3, but that's not here yet (alas!) so I came up with the reasoning that seemed most plausible. Mu has been watching over Xi You after sending Lang off to warn Shang about Xie Yingluo. But whatever threat Ying Shou Lie truly is, it's enough to get Mu to cross the Wasteland of Spirits to find Lang and Shang.
> 
> I do wonder what makes the envoy so dangerous. Hm.


	5. Vermillion Fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juǎn sticks his foot in his mouth a few times as they search for survivors of the bizarre butterfly assault.

Juǎn Cán Yún stared at the red bard’s back, watching his long braids sway as they traveled towards the Vermillion Fortress. He had welcomed the opportunity to help out the fortress and to travel with Làng Wū Yáo, but now that they were alone, he had no idea what to say. Juǎn was used to people who were more verbal or held a conversation, but he had to remind himself what Shāng had said. Làng didn’t talk much due to his voice, but he communicated in other ways. And that pipa liked to talk a lot. Yet so far, neither had actually said more than a few words since they left the shrine.

The Vermillion Fortress wasn’t too far down the mountainside, and it wasn’t exactly in the best of conditions. The surrounding walls had been cracked, the front doors left closed but damaged and unguarded. Làng leapt up onto the wall, kneeling down on it to observe the scenery. Leaves were strewn across the courtyard, several of the buildings damaged, the rear building sporting the most damage. If it were set up much like the last fortress, the rear building likely once housed so-called sacred relics.

“Man, this isn’t looking good,” Líng Yá commented. “Looks like when the empire ransacks a seal shrine.”

Làng closed his eyes, mapping out the realm around them. No signs of butterflies, but there did seem to be some sort of movement further in. He leapt off the building placing a hand on the ground as he felt for the movements in the area. Something was writhing deep within this place. It was possible someone had survived the attack.

Juǎn stumbled off the walls, landing next to Làng. “What do you mean, the empire ransacked shrines? The shrines and fortresses are respected by the empire.”

“Not in Xī Yōu,” Líng Yá said, letting Làng focus on the sounds. “The empire wants a sorcerous sword? They take it.”

Juǎn frowned sharply. “Take sacred swords? For what? The demon realm hasn’t invaded ours a second time.”

“War crimes against the people of Xī Yōu.” Làng stood up, a sound map of the fortress now in his mind. Not many people had been in the fortress when it was invaded, but if it were anything like the last one, this one probably thought itself impenetrable. A pity Huo Shi Ming Huan’s assassins didn’t care for walls or wards and just traveled right past them. “There may be survivors further in.”

Juǎn stared at Làng’s back once again. “Xī Yōu sounds really terrible.”

“You’re talking about Làng’s home, you know, Kid,” Líng Yá pointed out.

Juǎn wrinkled his nose before catching up to the red bard. “I didn’t mean it as an insult! I mean the empire shouldn’t commit crimes against its own people!” He stopped in front of Làng, hoping that he wouldn’t just take off angry at him. Or hit him like Dān Fěi sometimes did when he stuck his foot in his mouth.

Làng stopped, observing Juǎn’s behavior. The blond babbled on more than Líng Yá did, but Làng couldn’t quite stop Juǎn from talking by yanking on pipa strings. Juǎn didn’t seem to know much about Xī Yōu, though he also seemed to be close with Shāng. It was a strange juxtaposition, one that Làng really hadn’t expected. Perhaps that led to Juǎn trying far too hard to talk to Làng and incredibly awkwardly. “Why do you think we sealed so many sorcerous swords?”

Juǎn stared for a moment. “I don’t think I ever asked. We didn’t even know that Shāng had that crazy Index until after that demon was released into the world. We thought he was just some hobo with a blunt blade that Lǐn Xuě Yā just picked up for his own amusement! Then he goes and seals a massive world-destroying demon in a space sword that now sits in our shrine’s basement!”

Làng admittedly had heard only part of what happened before he’d come to Dōng Lí. Xiào Kuáng Juǎn and Xiē Yīngluò had kept them rather busy at the time, but even now, Làng only heard the story from Shāng’s side. The tale about how he was roped into a crazy fight against an evil organization after swords mostly because of Lǐn Xuě Yā, then from there the details were fuzzy. It was mostly complaining about how that smoking bastard liked to tangle Shāng in trouble. “Bù Huàn does not always show his full strength.”

“I know that well enough now!” Juǎn nodded with certainty. “When he was fighting to protect Fěi and me, he blew Diāo Mìng’s ribcage out his back with a stick! To think he had that kind of qi control that whole time and we just thought he was a fool.” Làng felt like that same kind of mystery as Shāng did before, though Juǎn wasn’t about to underestimate what this sound ability was truly capable of doing. Perhaps he could blow someone’s ribcage up with a sonic attack or slice something or how does one actually fight with sound anyway? Juǎn only saw a little bit of it before their spar was interrupted.

“As much as Làng likes to talk about his best friend, we should probably find that writhing noise,” Líng Yá pointed out.

Làng nodded, stepping past Juǎn towards where he’d mapped the noise. Given its movements, whatever the source was hadn’t gotten far. It was quite slow-moving.

“W-wait, writhing noise?” Juǎn trotted behind Làng. “I thought you said survivor before!”

“Someone could be poisoned, man,” Líng Yá replied.

“By butterflies?” Juǎn questioned.

“These bug freaks have weird abilities,” Líng Yá pointed out. “There was this one time where we fought a cicada assassin and one of those buzzy bugs nearly took out Làng’s own hearing when it crawled into his eeaaaaaa-----” He cut himself off when Làng violently pulled the pipa strings. The bard didn’t want to think about that cicada assassin.

“Fine fine!” the pipa conceded.

Juǎn wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the end of that sentence, honestly.

They entered the rear building, stepping over the broken doorway. Làng led the way, following the noise reaching him through the hallways. The source continued to writhe and scrape as they continued towards it. In the rear room were several massive leaf-like cocoons suspended from the ceiling, several of them writhing with muffled cries for help.

“We should help them!” Juǎn insisted, hearing the cries.

Làng quickly grabbed him by the sleeve. He could see recklessness that Dān Fěi had mentioned, likely fueled by inexperience in countering assassins like this.

“We can’t just let them suffer!” Juǎn insisted.

“It could be a trap, man!” Líng Yá pointed out.

Juǎn moved to yank his sleeve from Làng’s grip, willing to take that chance, but he stopped when he saw Làng stare intently at the cocoons. Shāng had said to focus on Làng’s movements and actions to understand what he was thinking. He still wasn’t quite sure what was going on in the red bard’s head, but that stance said battle. “Alright, we’ll do it your way.”

Làng had heard something unusual in one of them, something that didn’t quite match up with the rest. He couldn’t tell what it was just yet, but seeing it with his eyes and ears would tell him the truth. Releasing Juǎn’s sleeve from his grasp, Làng fired off sonic attacks that sliced the connection to the ceiling.

The three cocoons dropped to the floor, the leaves uncurling as three seal guardians matching Qīng’s attire slid out. One was unmoving, the other two turning to cough up whatever liquid had been inside the cocoons.

“That’s foul, man,” Líng Yá said.

The guardian in the center pushed himself up to his elbows, suddenly coughing up cocoon leaves before collapsing on the floor, his body spreading out like it had been liquified. The third guardian on the right seemed to have survived, but Làng was suspicious of him. His movements sounded like the rustling of wings and the crunching of leaves.

Grabbing Líng Yá at the neck, Làng dropped the pipa to the floor. The impact sent out a massive shockwave, shattering what was left of the cocoons and the bodies on the floor, throwing the third guardian back into the wall. The bodies burst into hundreds of small caterpillars which fell back down on the floor sufficiently dead. The burst also scraped small cocoons off the ceiling and brought them down dead as well.

Juǎn stared. He hadn’t seen any of the butterflies or the cocoons in the room. It was as Shāng had said. It didn’t make sense, and Juǎn had thought perhaps he’d heard Shāng’s words wrong. But the proof was right before him. Làng could  _ hear _ illusions

The third guardian bounced off the walls, slumping onto his feet with a sinister grin. “Well, I heard that Shāng Bù Huàn had a companion that could see through illusions, but to experience it? Well this is quite a surprise.”

“It’s the butterfly bitch!” Líng Yá exclaimed as Làng pulled him into his arms. The bard fired off several sonic attacks, shattering the wooden walls as the disguised guardian artfully avoided them.

“How rude,” the guardian shook off the illusion. She stood near Juǎn Cán Yún’s height, a long cloak of white crystal with orange patterns shaped like a butterfly’s wing trailed over her shoulders. Her white robe beneath looked like another wing draped over her and tied at the waist with her heels peeking out from beneath it. “My name is Lì Húdié! You’re not quite the prey I was looking for, but I’ll string you up and use you to lure Shāng Bù Huàn out of hiding!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final player in this game, Lì Húdié, takes the stage! When I thought of her abilities, I ran through a lot of different scenarios like giant regenerating butterflies or attack of the killer caterpillars. But ultimately the idea of digesting people in cocoons won because god damn. That's a pretty unsettling and frightening ability.
> 
> The cicada incident Líng Yá is blabbing on about is from my other TBF fic, A Song of Swords. Cicadas crawling into Làng's ear is bad enough that he never wants to talk about it ever again. Not that I can blame him. Since most of the interactions with the assassins is Shāng nearly eating scorpions or getting poisoned, I wanted to go with something that would annoy Làng personally. Cicadas in the ear would do it.
> 
> also IDK why my notes are doubling up. The second one is from the first chapter.


	6. White butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butterflies, a fallen fortress, half-digested guardians, and a sonic battle. Sounds like a regular afternoon.

Làng Wū Yáo wasn’t exactly fond of being threatened. The idea of being strung up to lure his best friend out hardly sounded pleasant, especially after seeing the strung guardians explode into caterpillars and butterflies. They weren’t just strung up. They were digested. Everything about that was unsettling.

Even worse, with everyone in the fortress dead, Lì Húdié likely had a sorcerous sword in her possession. According to Qīng, the fortress messenger, there was only one sorcerous sword and it was said to be very powerful. Exactly what it did, the messenger simply didn’t know, but that seemed to be a common lack of knowledge in Dōng Lí. The guardians didn’t actually know what they protected. This sword could very well cause peninsulas to crumble or possess people. Or it could be something pointless or a fake.

Làng wasn’t certain he wanted to take those chances right now, but before he had a chance to act, Juǎn Cán Yún leapt past him, his sword drawn and aiming right for the assassin. “Dān Style: Eightfold Lotus!” He sliced his blade through Lì Húdié several times, finishing the movement with a grand sweeping motion before gasping. The assassin was no longer there.

Làng quickly turned, firing off several sonic attacks at the corner, forcing Lì to show herself. Fighting in this enclosed space wouldn’t do either of them any good, but it also didn’t give Lì any advantages. She had fewer places to hide, fewer sounds she could use to deceive Làng’s senses. 

She held her hand out to the side, summoning a thin spindle-like sword curled at the hilt behind her hand. It looked like a butterfly antenna, something that could easily damage someone if it poked them. She leapt towards Làng, her blade pulled to the side as she quickly drove forward.

Làng wasn’t certain if she was capable of poisoning, but he wasn’t about to let that sword touch him. He quickly blocked the attack with the pipa’s side, turning it slightly to fire off sonic razor wind with his free hand. As she moved, he shifted the pipa, driving Líng Yá into her midsection.

But she disappeared once again and his attack seemed to go through a burst of butterfly wings before they faded.  _ Behind _ . He turned quickly, blocking the sword attack over his shoulder with Líng Yá once again.

“You  _ are _ following my movements, aren’t you?” Lì glared at him. Làng was definitely more of a challenge than she’d expected. He could track her tricks and see right through them, and he was fast. But no one was perfect. She’d find a way to ensnare him and use him as bait. She considered summoning that new sword to her hand and figuring out what it did, but another idea crossed her mind.

He had a reckless companion.

With a quick burst of qi, she pushed Làng back several feet. He quickly caught his footing, finding Lì stepping off to the side and attempting to disappear in the shadows. He looked forward but it was his ears doing all the work. He listened for her steps, the seemingly silent heels on the wooden floor. She’d changed targets suddenly.

“Watch out, Kid!” Líng Yá warned.

Juǎn drew his sword upwards, drawing a finger across the flat side of the blade. He had seen Làng fight against her. Lì was absolutely no slouch when it came to combat, but an assassin couldn’t be a slouch to take down an entire fortress. “Dān Style: Clear Pond Reflection!” Spell circles and lines formed in front of him, creating a barrier. Spells seemed to be the better of his techniques, contrary to before where he was all melee all the time. The sword still felt unnatural in his hands, leaving him to want a spear instead. Now probably  _ wasn’t _ the time to put the style to practice, but he would try to use what he did know. Even if he still couldn’t see Lì.

He felt something sharp. He stared down finding his leg pierced all the way through before he even realized what had happened. Pain shot up his leg as he pressed himself against the wall, dropping his sword as he stared at the spindly blade.

Lì manifested before him as she ripped the antenna blade from his leg, dodging Làng’s sonic attacks as he attempted to drive her away from him. That blade could be poisoned or start breaking down his leg for all Làng knew, and Juǎn didn’t have the qi control that Shāng did to counter it. Nor did Làng want to rely on that sneaky Lǐn Xuě Yā for a remedy.

As he forced Lì backwards, Làng picked up Juǎn and slung the kid over his shoulder. Retreat was the best option, but the pursuer wouldn’t be so easy to lose like Xiào Kuáng Juǎn. This was one of the insect assassins, capable of aggressive attacks and likely digesting them with those cocoons. He’d have to be clever if he planned to leave this place with both of them alive.

Lì nearly laughed at how well that worked! Simply putting the companion in danger now left him hindered. He was still following her movements, but that had to considerably slow him down. She could take them both out, use the blond as a sacrifice while the bard would serve well as bait without even needing to use the fortress’s sword.

She dove forward with the antenna sword. He quickly shifted, blocking the attack one-handed with the pipa. Pulling his foot upward, he jammed it into her arm then into her chest to push her backwards. His movements were slightly hindered as he protected Juǎn, but he’d fought in difficult conditions before to protect more people. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, especially if that stab wound got worse.

He shifted his stance, resting Líng Yá over Juǎn’s legs as the blond hung on Làng’s shoulder. With his arm steadying the legs, Làng flicked several bursts of sonic attacks, forcing Lì to move away from him. He didn’t let up, forcing her to keep her distance as he thought of possible opportunities.

Làng would need to hinder Lì long enough that he could leave the fortress and successfully lose her in the process. He didn’t know the extent of her abilities, but there was something all were pretty susceptible to. Buildings.

When Juǎn and Làng had entered the building before, the bard listened to the structure, the creak of the floorboards, the supporting beams and the roof above their heads as the light breeze pushed against it. It was pretty structurally sound, even with the damage it had sustained, but this room had endured the most. It had supported the suspended cocoons, three of them at human weight, and Làng had damaged it earlier when he used the sonic boom at the start of the fight.

Even Shāng would have trouble if someone brought a roof down on his head. The challenge was finding the opportunity to make it happen. Right now, he had his back against a wall.

“You cannot keep this defending up forever, bard!” Lì taunted him. “I will envelop you in the warm embrace of my cocoons!”

“Not a chance, you cocoon kook!” Líng Yá hissed.

Làng had no plans of getting digested in one of those cocoons.

“Dammit, Làng. I’m sorry,” Juǎn gripped the back of Làng’s robes.

Làng fired off more successive sonic attacks to force Lì to keep her distance before shifting his stance. He dropped the pipa on the ground to create a large arched sonic boom. Lì guarded herself with some butterflies but she wasn’t his primary target. It was the walls. Flipping the pipa, he deflected several sharp missiles in the shape of butterflies. That was definitely a new one, but thankfully easy enough to defend against with his wider-ranged attacks.

Líng Yá dropped to the ground, creating another large arched attack as Làng placed his hand on the pipa’s head. He forced qi into the pipa, the strings vibrating and sending several successive bursts across the room. He could hear the boards begin to creak around them.

Lì sidestepped each one, each step becoming more and more irritated as Làng forced her to keep her distance.

Juǎn stared at the attacks. So this was what a sonic attack really could do. He had never witnessed such an aggressive attack of sound before. He wasn’t certain what to expect, perhaps that his eardrums would be suffering with successive noise. But it wasn’t just noise. Làng was definitely funneling qi through his movements and turning sound into a deadly weapon. Lì just seemed really adept at dodging or deflecting the attacks. But for someone with such a refined skill, why was he using such broad attacks? He was reminded of how broad Shāng’s attacks were. Was Làng aiming for something else?

Lì stood at the doorway, cackling shrilly. “What exactly are you even trying to do with such reckless attacks, bard?” She didn’t want to let him know that his sonic attacks were actually making her nervous with how sharply they cut into the wall. One wrong move and she would lose an arm. Perhaps she could provoke him now that his back was literally against a wall.

“I don’t think she’s noticed, has she, Làng?” Líng Yá taunted with a laugh.

“Not in the least,” Làng agreed.

“That you seem to be recklessly aiming for the broadside of a building?” the assassin questioned.

“It’s time we make our exit!” Líng Yá exclaimed.

Làng picked up the pipa, turning to face the assassin. Instead of firing off an attack, he jammed the butt of the pipa into the wall behind him. The impact reverberated across the supporting walls, laced with sonic qi. The walls cracked and rippled, the boards breaking under the vibrations of the attack.

Lì shrieked as the ceiling boards began to follow suit. “You’re trying to bury us all!”

The calm expression on Làng’s face said otherwise. He pushed the pipa backwards and through the wall, the pressure causing the boards to shatter from the sounds he funneled through Líng Yá. Leaping backwards, he avoided the caving ceiling but he wasn’t out of the building yet. He turned, taking off down the back hallway as the ceiling began to cave in behind him.

Làng wasn’t necessarily fond of taking buildings down, particularly ones that wanted to help protect the world instead of harm it. It still was a bit of a strange thought to him that seal shrines actually wanted to do good. But in this case, he didn’t have to worry about any innocent people getting caught in the mix. Lì had already slaughtered them. No one was left alive.

He could feel Juǎn tighten his grip on the back of Làng’s robe as the ceiling began to cave in right behind them. Làng fired off several sonic attacks at the back wall, bursting through it and skidding out into the courtyard. The backside of the building collapsed in on itself, bringing down the walls and the roof and everything in between. The front of the building was left untouched.

Làng watched the building carefully, listening to the sounds within. The boards were still cracking and collapsing but he didn’t hear any steps. She easily could’ve shadowstepped to safety, but even if she did, she certainly wasn’t coming to pursue them.

“Let’s get outta here, man,” Líng Yá suggested.

Làng nodded. This was their best opportunity to leave. Shifting Juǎn on his shoulders, Làng leapt over the walls and disappeared in the nearby forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is named after Lì Húdié. Her name means white jasmine butterfly. White butterflies can be a sign of death, so it fits her.
> 
> I had fun creating the battle for this chapter. Bringing the roof down with sound is a fitting use of Làng's abilities. And it's certainly not going to make Lì very happy if she survived.


	7. Forest travels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juǎn and Làng have a bit of a heart to heart, and Juǎn is far too hard on himself.

Juǎn Cán Yún was understandably upset but at least he wasn’t poisoned or losing his leg. He sat leaning against the tree in the forest some ways away from the Vermillion Fortress. Lì Húdié hadn’t followed them out of the fortress, but that didn’t leave him any less upset with how everything had transpired. “Dammit, that really could’ve gone better. You must be pissed off that you got stuck with someone like me.”

Làng Wū Yáo paused in healing Juǎn’s leg with some qi to peer at him.

“You had to carry my stupid wounded self over your shoulder,” Juǎn continued without hesitation. “The entire fortress is dead, we have some butterfly freak who likely has a sword that does who knows what since these sorcerous swords do all sorts of weird things, I lost my sword Fěi gave me, and you had to flee because of me!”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, man,” Líng Yá said as Làng went back to healing the leg wound.

“Am I though?” Juǎn buried his face in his hands. It was like fighting against the Xuán Guǐ Zōng once again. Time and time again, battle would show his inexperience. He made up for it with ambition but that would only get so far against an assassin. It was like the time he thought he could take down Shā Wú Shēng, but that man bested him in a competition of skill every time.

Làng sat back on his feet, giving himself a moment to recover some qi. “There is something Bù Huàn had told me early on in our friendship. Everyone has their limits. We watch each other’s backs to fill in those gaps.” Làng sometimes forgot to follow those words, getting angry at Shāng for being reckless or pacifistic, but when the time called for it, Làng knew that he could always count on Shāng. And he would do the same for Shāng as well.

Juǎn stared at his hands. He couldn’t think of Shāng saying something so sentimental but much of the time Juǎn knew him, Shāng had been sarcastic. Probably mostly from Lǐn Xuě Yā egging him on most of their journey. Yet seeing how Shāng and Làng understood each other on an intrinsic unspoken level, it probably was something Shāng really had said.

“I’m not used to relying on people, you know?” Juǎn confessed. “See when I met Shāng, I had a big bro. Shòu Yún Xiāo, an archer. Wanted to be a hero just like him. Then I found out how evil he really was when I was trying to protect Fei. The battle that followed is where I lost my eye. Funny that Shāng turned out to be a much better friend than anyone else in our party.”

“You know Làng and Shāng were the opposite!” Líng Yá blabbed. “They once fought as enemies after Làng was----”

Làng flicked the pipa in the face over his shoulder.

Juǎn huffed. “Oh come on! Shāng doesn’t talk about Xī Yōu either! Not that we actually believed he was from Xī Yōu at first, but that’s beside the point. How did you two actually meet?”

Làng sighed. Well Líng Yá had already blabbed part of that. He flicked the pipa in the face again before he had the chance to blab too much. “I was told that Shāng Bù Huàn was the worst evil in all of Xī Yōu, one that intended on disrupting the very fabric of society with his sorcerous sword collection. I thought he was evil, that he had even coerced my friend Mù Tiān Mìng to work with him. When I fought him, I found that everything I had been told was lies.”

He glanced at Líng Yá, prepared to flick him in the face again if he tried to say more than that. That day that he pursued Shāng out of the palace had changed everything for him. He learned how truly evil the empire was, what Shāng and Mù were doing to counter them, and even learned about himself.

Juǎn hadn’t heard mention of Mù before, not that Shāng really spoke much about what he did before traveling to Dōng Lí. Làng certainly didn’t fill in that information either, though Líng Yá blabbed bits and pieces. It was sort of strange. Shāng always seemed like the solitary traveler, but he had so many friends that he’d left behind to deal with the Index.

Juǎn couldn’t imagine Shāng being considered a villain, but Xī Yōu seemed backwards when he’d hear about it. “Shāng’s just a really good guy.”

“Not an ounce of evil in him,” Làng nodded, standing up and offering a hand to Juǎn. “We should keep moving.”

Juǎn accepted the extended hand, taking to his feet. His leg was working once again, Little achy but it was usable. He stared at Làng for a moment. “You know, I figured you didn’t like me or something at first. But you did save my hide back there, and I appreciate it of course. But I gotta know. Did Shāng or Fěi ask you to keep me out of trouble?”

“I think you’re reading too far into this, man,” Líng Yá said as Làng headed down the pathway. Dān Fěi did ask Làng to make sure that Juǎn returned alive and in one piece, but Làng was the one who decided to accept the request because he believed it was right.

Juǎn huffed. “I know Fěi gets really worried about me, especially with us being married now. And normally I’d say ‘I can handle myself!’ but I kinda didn’t do that back there.”

“Your stance is off,” Làng said,

“Huh?” Juǎn stared at the back of Làng’s head confused.

“Your stance is not suited for a sword,” Làng reiterated.

“Well I’m used to using a lance,” Juǎn admitted.

“It shows,” Làng said.

“Figured.” Juǎn huffed some more. “I want to carry on the Dān Clan traditional style! Fěi really wants to pass on the style to our children so I need to learn it so I can help carry it on as well! She’s the last one in her clan after all. I just never quite adjusted to the sword.”

“You know, though this guy doesn’t always use one, Làng is very well versed in the sword,” Líng Yá offered. “He probably could help with your stance.” He didn’t get flicked in the face so perhaps it wasn’t a bad suggestion.

Juǎn still wasn’t certain about Làng’s fighting style. He fought with sound, he flung the pipa like a blunt object, but a sword as well? He really was as versed as Shāng. “Shāng has tried sparring with me to get me used to it, but his style is so reckless. The Dān Clan style is very refined.”

“Làng is definitely a better match,” Líng Yá said assuredly. “Shāng could probably slice a village in half but this guy’s style is much more focused. You should see him when he transforms me into a sword for combat!”

“You can transform?!” Juǎn blurted out.

“You better believe it, man!” Líng Yá said proudly.

Now he was certain that both Shāng and Làng could fight with literally anything. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be transforming weapons but if you could help me with the imbalance. I mean anything to ensure that I can protect Fěi and my friends.”

Làng nodded. He wasn’t sure how to train someone since the training he endured with his mother wasn’t exactly ordinary. It was harsh, if Líng Yá had anything to say about it. But for Làng, it was necessary to shape him into the supernatural blade he was now, one that eventually chose his own path.

Perhaps sparring and correcting Juǎn’s stance would do. The kid was ambitious and already understood combat to some degree. He just didn’t understand how to balance a sword.

Làng paused near the village walls, listening to the sounds. His ears began to separate the noises and map the area as he searched for any sign of Lì Húdié. No butterflies, no one pursuing them, but something else snagged his attention. Over the hum and hustle of the village, there was a faint tune playing. Normally he wouldn’t pay attention to it, but it was the tune itself that caught his attention. It almost sounded like the tune his mother taught him.

“Something wrong?” Juǎn questioned. He reached for his blade in case it was Lì catching up to them, only to remind himself that he’d lost it in the battle.

Làng listened some more. The tune was still harder to hear, but he was certain it was indeed that same song. “I hear a familiar song.”

“We can’t just go chasing songs, you know,” Líng Yá fussed. 

Làng ignored him. He was just expressing the same concerns that were in Làng’s own head, but he mostly wanted to get a closer listen. It was probably something that sounded similar over the voices of the village but not so much up close.

Làng entered the village, Juǎn following close behind and not really objecting. It was a strange thing to pursue, but as Làng hadn’t mentioned Lì following them, a little listen wouldn’t hurt. Juǎn peered at the food stalls. Would it be strange to bring Dān Fěi some food? Probably. They were supposed to be at the Vermillion Fortress, not eating. They also probably weren’t supposed to be making a detour. They had a sorcerous sword in the hands of an assassin to think about.

“ _ Even as the snow piles up in the stillness _

_ The sound will ring out no matter how faint _

_ If you can strain your ears and find the source _

_ In that moment, you will hear my playing. _ ”

The words reached his ears. Làng knew the song but more importantly, he knew that  _ voice _ . Unless this was some elaborate illusion that fooled his senses, someone important was here in Dōng Lí.

Làng wove through the crowd, Juǎn still tailing him pretty closely, arriving as the last notes of the song were plucked. She sat before him with her blue guqin on her lap, peering up at him with a soft smile on her face.

Làng could barely believe his eyes but his ears wouldn’t deceive him. It was possible both were working against him but that pipe smoking bastard hadn’t shown up for some time. He also had no reason to bother with Làng right now. It was definitely her, but what was she doing in Dōng Lí? “Tiān Mìng.”

She stood up, placing the guqin on her back as the crowd she attracted began to disperse. “Hello, Wū Yáo. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Juǎn peered around him at the woman, recognizing the name as one Làng had briefly mentioned before. She was addressing him by his personal name, so they were definitely friends.

“What brings you here, man?” Líng Yá questioned. “Trouble, isn’t it? When is it not trouble.”

“Quite a bit of trouble,” Mù confirmed. “And it’s already here. Is there a place we can talk? I have a lot to tell you and Bù Huàn.”

Làng nodded. The shrine would offer them a quiet place to talk, but he worried what might be coming from Xī Yōu, and if it were worse than Lì Húdié.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who finally reunited! And through song, of course. The song is Crescent Cutlass, the same song that Mù was singing when she and Làng first met. The tune is pretty distinct and would be enough to attract someone who can separate sounds out of a crowd in the distance.
> 
> Wonder what news she's come to bring? We know, don't we?


	8. Trouble from the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mù Tiān Mìng has arrived with a warning, but what news has she truly brought from Xī Yōu that's worse than an assassin?

Shāng Bù Huàn had become concerned. Not because anything had attacked or even approached the seal shrine, but because nothing actually had. He leaned against the shrine wall in the courtyard, sitting cross legged on the ground with his sword sheathed and nested in the crook of his elbow.

Dān Fěi crouched beside him, handing him a cup of tea. “Worried about them, Sir Shāng?”

“A bit,” Shāng admitted. He knew well that Làng Wū Yáo could take care of himself in battle, but Juǎn Cán Yún had never encountered one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins. The assassins could give even Shāng trouble, and with Juǎn’s inexperience, it could be a recipe for disaster. It could also be nothing and the assassin had already left. He could be worrying for nothing.

He took a sip of tea. Dān Fěi certainly knew how to brew a good cup of it. Perhaps it would help calm his worries.

“You’re such a pain, man,” Líng Yá’s voice echoed up the hillside.

“Look, I was fine until we hit the stairs!” Juǎn hissed back. “Not like I wanted to be carried back… but I appreciate it.”

“Carried?” Dān Fěi knit her brow in worry as she stood up. Shāng set the teacup down and followed suit.

Làng reached the top of the stairs, Juǎn slung over his back as he carried him to the top. As they reached the top, he set Juǎn down on the ground, letting the blond carefully stand on both feet. He gingerly shifted his weight away from the damaged leg.

“What happened?” Dān Fěi rushed forward, grabbing Juǎn by the arms to steady him. “Were you wreckless again? Cán Yún! You have to be careful!”

“That assassin was relentless!” Juǎn protested. “I couldn’t see her and she got me with her sword. Had it not been for Làng, we might’ve not survived that...”

“Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins are like that,” Shāng frowned. “They like to use illusions and trickery to gain the advantage. She baited you in, didn’t she?”

Làng nodded.

“It wasn’t his fault, it was mostly me,” Juǎn frowned. “Làng probably could’ve taken her down and I wouldn’t have lost my own sword.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Shāng said. “Those assassins give us a lot of trouble. They’ve gotten me a few times with illusions. Took Wū Yáo down once too, and he’s much better at spotting them than I am.”

“Poisons, illusions, draining loud noises, scorpions disguised as dumplings,” Làng recalled the number of times the assassins tried to get the upper hand.

Shāng wrinkled his nose. “I’d rather forget that last one.” He peered at the red bard, noticing that he wasn’t holding the pipa and that Làng was doing more talking than usual. “Wait, where’s Líng Yá?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Líng Yá shouted. “We’re just apparently stopping for the scenic view!”

“Oh quit your fussing. I had to ensure we weren’t being followed.” Mù Tiān Mìng reached the top of the stairs, Líng Yá fussing in her arms. She handed the noisy pipa back to Làng.

Shāng stared. Now there was a face that he wasn’t expecting to see. “Tiān Mìng!” Shāng had left so suddenly before, not even telling his companions where he was going or why. He felt bad about it, but the Index had become so much trouble, he wanted to find somewhere safe and distant to get rid of it. That plan blew up and the Index was back in his hands.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it, Bù Huàn?” Mù smiled softly. “Wū Yáo and Juǎn Cán Yún filled me in on your recent adventures. Quite a lot has happened since you traveled here, hasn’t it?”

Shāng rubbed at his cheek. That was honestly understating it. Half of it was Lǐn Xuě Yā roping him into misadventures, and then the rest was just kind of a mess. Làng probably told her how he’d managed to tear the scroll and lose two very dangerous swords to Xiē Yīngluò. “Are you angry with me for leaving suddenly?”

“A bit,” Mù replied. “But I knew that Wū Yáo would look after you while I kept watch over the situation in Xī Yōu. It seems you two got into trouble anyway.”

“Trouble is kinda what we do, man,” Líng Yá pointed out.

“Has been for a long time,” Mù agreed. She peered around Làng, noticing Dān Fěi looking back at her. “Where are my manners? I'm Mù Tiān Mìng, a long-time friend of both Wū Yáo and Bù Huàn.”

Dān Fěi smiled brightly. She hadn’t expected that Shāng would have such a pretty, polite friend. “I’m Dān Fěi, the guardian of this shrine. I hope your journey from Xī Yōu wasn’t too much trouble, though I hear the Wasteland of Spirits is terribly uninviting.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Mù replied. “The trouble in Xī Yōu that has already come here is potentially worse.”

“We know about the Huò Shì Míng Huáng assassin sent here,” Shāng informed her.

When were they not tangling with his assassins? “This one is imperial,” Mù said.

“Come inside,” Dān Fěi invited them. “There is plenty of space to talk. I’ll fetch us some tea and bandages for Cán Yún.”

“I’m fine,” Juǎn insisted.

“Just let me take care of you,” Dān Fěi fussed, practically forcing Juǎn to use her shoulder for support.

Juǎn sighed. His leg was sore from the walk up after all, and at least he didn’t have to listen to Líng Yá criticize him again.

They settled down at one of the low tables inside the shrine as Dān Fěi placed some fresh tea on the table. Juǎn had propped his leg up after some qi healing and bandages. Làng had situated himself on the side next to the wall, leaning against it with Líng Yá on his lap. Shāng sat across from him informally, reaching forward to accept a teacup with a thanks. Mù settled down at the head of the table with Dān Fěi at the foot.

Mù wasn't certain how much the two new companions knew about Xī Yōu in general, but as neither Làng nor Shāng had shooed them out of the room, she guessed it was fine to speak freely around them. They already knew about the Index and the trouble it could invite.

Mù took a sip of tea. It certainly was different than the teas she was used to but still quite warming. She set the cup back down on the table. “There was a bit of a power vacuum when Xiào Kuáng Juǎn left for Dōng Lí and didn’t return.”

“The fox bastard is pretty dead,” Líng Yá said.

“There were rumors that something had happened, but even before that, the empire was stirring,” Mù continued. “It seemed that the crown princess had become restless with the threats of Huò Shì Míng Huáng and the disappearance of Bù Huàn. Imperials began to try to appease her, though only one actually was able to do it.”

“I can take a few guesses at what this appeasement involved, and not a single one is really pretty,” Shāng frowned. “They always involve something violent.”

Juǎn pursed his lips a bit. “Xī Yōu just always sounds violent whenever I hear about it.”

“It is when the princess is involved,” Shāng leaned on the table. “War crimes against people who resist imperial rule, violent forms of entertainment. Problem is, most people accept it or ignore it.”

“And that’s why you sealed the swords, right? To stop the war crimes?” Juǎn questioned. “At least that’s what Làng said.”

“He is right,” Shāng confirmed. “As far as we know, we have every single one from Xī Yōu. Unless more suddenly showed up, Tiān Mìng?”

She shook her head. “Having sorcerous swords suddenly manifest would be  _ easier _ to deal with than what unfolded.”

“I don’t like where this is going, man,” Líng Yá admitted.

Pulling a folded poster from her pocket, Mù unfolded it and placed it on the table. It was a missive calling for all musicians to compete for the title of Court Virtuoso. It was a battle for the highest title a musician could uphold, a musician of the heavens.

Dān Fěi read the poster across the table. “A musical competition? Is there something in Xī Yōu that makes them terrible?”

“When it comes to the princess,” Mù replied, “the competition is deadly. A musician must sing and not stop while fighting off imperial soldiers trying to kill them.”

“That’s terrible!” Dān Fěi clasped her hands over her mouth. “So many innocent musicians caught in a deadly competition.”

“The competitions had stopped for quite some time,” Shāng recalled. He glanced across the table at Làng. The bard hadn’t said a word since the poster was set on the table. “Been about 10 years. What started them up again?”

“This is all the work of a young imperial named Yīng Shòu Liè,” Mù replied. “From what the buzz near the imperial capital says, he was rather low-ranking but this proposal shot him up through the ranks. The more musicians he brought in, the more he rose in rank until he reached magistrate. He took over the Hunting Fox’s position.”

It seemed like such a common thread, imperials getting their high ranks by stepping on the backs of musicians. Làng stared at the poster on the table, his grip on Líng Yá tight. He was worried about what might come next and why Mù was here to warn him, though he desperately wanted it not to be the case.

“By stepping on musicians much the same way as the Fox did,” Shāng frowned sharply. “But he’s young and low-ranking right? How much would he know about what used to happen at the palace?”

“Rumor has it he happened across Xiào Kuáng Juǎn’s records and found information about the Court Virtuoso, one in particular,” Mù pursed her lips. “The only one who could hold onto the title and who is considered the best musician in all of Xī Yōu.”

Shāng stared. “No. You don’t mean…”

“The only one the princess couldn’t live without.” Mù unfolded another poster, placing it on the table. It was a detailed drawing of Làng in his Virtuoso attire, his long hair pulled up into a topknot. The expression drawn was strangely serene. “And the envoy has come here to find him.”

“‘Missing: Court Virtuoso,’” Dān Fěi read the poster. “‘Làng… Wū Yáo?’” She peered over at the red bard. He didn’t look much like the poster, though the face was much the same. The attire and even the hairstyle was completely different, but there was no mistaking that name. “The empire is after Sir Làng?”

“The princess’s birthday is coming up, and she wants a particular songbird as a present,” Mù confirmed. “And Yīng Shòu Liè seems set on delivering Wū Yáo right to her.”

Làng moved, placing a hand on the poster and staring at it for a moment. It was a face he never wanted to see, one that he had purposely left behind years ago, that sad face stuck in a palace of evil. The drawing made him look so peaceful, but he had been anything but that at the time. He crumpled the paper up in his hand.

“Man, what a pain,” Shāng leaned on the table, running a hand through his hair. “It was bad enough when she sent the whole damn imperial army after us when Wū Yáo joined us. I figured she’d given that up by now, realizing Làng would never willingly go back to being the Court Virtuoso.”

Juǎn glanced between Làng and Shāng. Events were starting to add up in his mind. Làng had mentioned he went after Shāng, believing he was the worst villain in all of Xī Yōu but realized he actually wasn’t. Then somehow Làng ended up joining Shāng and becoming his best friend, and this involved the _entire empire’s_ _army_.

“Like this guy would ever go back to that sadistic princess ever again,” Líng Yá said. “He’s no one’s property but his own.”

“I don’t know how Yīng Shòu Liè plans on actually getting Wū Yáo back to Xī Yōu,” Mù continued, “but I do know he’s already here. He recognized the song I was playing, and had not a strangely dressed man pulled him back, I was certain he would’ve tried to fight me. I’ve been evading him ever since.”

Shāng rubbed a hand on the side of his face. “First one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins with a sorcerous sword, now a musician-hunting imperial. What a mess.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Mù said assuredly. “We always do, especially when we’re together and with new friends.”

Làng stared at the poster crumpled up in his hand. He had hoped this mess would be behind him, but he could never truly be free of the empire’s desires, could he? Even his own mother wanted him to be the court musician. He’d achieved that, but it was everything he didn’t want, everything that felt like a cage. He never wanted to go back to that, and he knew that his friends would help prevent this fate as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yīng's plans are now fully revealed as well as his history and information sources. How else did a young envoy get his information? He yoinked Xiào's records! As much as I like to rag on Xiào and his ability to awkwardly stumble upon information that makes him look good, I imagine that Xiào is actually really good at keeping records (or keeping things out of records as it was with his smuggling). He is seen a few times with scrolls, and he was a known fugitive hunter. Have to document all their crimes (probably for reference on where he stole what too he he he). Since he seemed to have disappeared after leaving for Dōng Lí, raiding his records stash probably wouldn't be too difficult, especially for a cunning conniving young imperial like Yīng.
> 
> I wonder what will come of this and how Yīng actually thinks he could get Làng back to Xī Yōu.
> 
> 10 years and Làng can still never get away from his previous life.


	9. A strange trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lì Húdié is honestly not having a good day.

Lì Húdié was rather upset.

She had heard warnings not to underestimate Shāng Bù Huàn and his companions, but she felt herself highly superior to that failure Xiē Yīngluò. The mission into Dōng Lí was Xie’s last. She’d either died or fled, either of which would make her weak. But perhaps she was killed by either Shāng or Làng. No one actually knew the story of why she never returned.

But now that she’d encountered Shāng’s companion and had a  _ building _ dropped on top of her, she realized they were more of a threat than she had first assumed. They had to be  _ something _ given how long they had managed to keep the Index and the sorcerous swords out of her master’s hands, but how Làng Wū Yáo had turned the situation so strongly into his favor with  _ sound _ was something else. She’d have to resort to different tactics to handle that bard and Shāng.

She summoned the sorcerous sword to her hand. It was a rather small thing, closer to a dagger in design, with a short blade, small scabbard, and a silver rose on the hilt. Admittedly she knew nothing about Dōng Lí’s swords, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that seal shrines existed in this country as well. And where there were seals, there were swords. Stealing the sword was the easy part. Everything else that followed was just a pain. Literally. That Làng Wū Yáo had torn her beautiful cloak and crushed her butterfly children with a building.

She stared at the sword in her hand. What did it  _ do _ ? The blade seemed sharp enough, but not all sorcerous swords were capable of cutting. It likely had some other purpose, and she hoped this one was truly powerful despite its diminutive size.

She heard voices. It wasn’t Làng and that obnoxious blond but someone else altogether. She ducked into the bushes. Perhaps she could use them as a test.

Yīng Shòu Liè pried his robe from the grasp of the bush. The lead they had gotten was not exactly the one they were looking for. The blue musician hadn’t shown up for a bit, nor had her song that was definitely from Xī Yōu. Traveling musicians would be more difficult to track down given that they are always moving, and if she hadn’t disappeared, Yīng would’ve put a lawman on her. She left so quickly, it was suspicious.

But there was more than one way to track down a missing Virtuoso. Làng was a known associate of Shāng Bù Huàn and this current lead said that a seal fortress had suddenly and mysteriously fallen. It seemed like a Shāng thing to do, plunder a fortress and steal its sorcerous swords then seal them away. A villain didn’t stop his ways just because he’d traveled to another land.

“The Vermillion Fortress won’t be much further,” Lǐn Xuě Yā informed his imperial companion. The lead had been a surprise even to him, but there seemed to be no dissuading Yīng from pursuing it. Shāng certainly wouldn’t take a fortress down himself, and he seemed to have no reason to be near it. As far as Lǐn knew, Shāng was still staying at the Dān Clan shrine which meant someone or something else had attacked it. 

But Yīng was insistent and Lǐn was willing to indulge him. Perhaps he could learn more what the imperial had to steal, though that arrogance ran thick. Stealing that would be very fun. He simply had to find an opportunity to do so, and all ideas pointed at Làng. There was no way that bard would play along with any plans like Shāng had. And that wasn’t even much playing along, more like stringing him along and forcing him into the situation.

Lì Húdié watched them from the bushes. Well this was a surprise. While she didn’t recognize Lǐn, she recognized the robes of the second one. A Xī Yōu imperial envoy. He wasn’t the usual Hunting Fox, but she’d heard rumors another had risen to power. Whoever he was, she’d simply take him and his weird companion out and be on her way.

She leapt out from the bushes, sorcerous dagger in hand. She’d take out the one who appeared unarmed first. That would tell her if the blade were sharp or not. From then, she would test its power.

However her easy prey suddenly and quite effortlessly twirled out of the way. “Ho~? What do we have here?”

Yīng turned, surprised to find that someone who didn’t fight had evaded a surprise attack even he didn’t notice. Yet perhaps more surprising was the source of the attack. It wasn’t Shāng Bù Huàn or Làng Wū Yáo but someone else altogether. He recognized the attire well enough as Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins always had this weird bug motif going on in their outfits. He drew his blade. It was long and slightly curved at the end with a hilt decorated with golden feather filigree. “Stand back, Sir Guǐ Niǎo. She is an assassin from Xī Yōu!”

“An assassin? Trying to kill someone as unimportant as me?” Lǐn sized her up as he stepped back towards Ying. She was injured, though she was trying to hide that underneath her long butterfly cloak. The dagger she held was unusual, possibly sorcerous.

“Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins are rather indiscriminate,” Yīng explained. He glanced at her blade as well, though unlike Lin, he found it relatively unremarkable. “They will kill anyone in their way, which happens to be us at the moment.” He drew his blade, his rings clinking against the hilt as he grasped it.

That confirmed her origins. Xiē Yīngluò had caused a lot of trouble recently, nearly rattling Lin’s plans of toying with Xiào Kuáng Juǎn, though the Fox ended up denying Lǐn his prize in the end on his own terms. He was still annoyed about that. “How dangerous!” Lǐn exclaimed, stepping behind Ying. “I’ll leave this to the expert then, of course.”

It was Lin’s first chance to see Yīng actually fight. The young envoy was so assured of his combat style, and in a fight right now, he would have the upper hand. The fight could very well be one-sided given how Lì Húdié seemed to be favoring one leg more than the other. The more he could learn about Yīng, the more he could possibly steal from him. Arrogance was good, but more things to steal was always better. It made things interesting, and he had been so bored lately.

This wasn’t quite going as well as Lì Húdié had planned, but this certainly wouldn’t go as badly as Làng dropping a roof on her head. He was just one imperial defending a smoking weirdo.

Yīng made the first move, driving his blade downward as he quickly approached. Lì blocked with the sorcerous dagger, feeling the pressure of his attack on her aching supporting knee. He certainly had more strength behind his attack than she expected. It would take more work to find out what this sorcerous blade did than she hoped. She summoned her antenna sword to her hand, driving the sharp point forward.

Yīng broke off from the attack, leaping backwards to avoid the spindly sword. These assassins were tricky like that, able to summon swords as they pleased. It was possible one was sorcerous, probably the second one she had summoned, but they usually returned to their master with sorcerous swords rather than simply using them. Perhaps she was on her way home to deliver it to Huò Shì Míng Huáng. Time to disrupt the plan.

He leapt forward, twisting in his attack to drive the sword in a wide arch diagonally. She leapt backwards, feeling the twinge in her knee. The movement of his blade sliced the nearby tree branches and bushes, but as it reached its lowest point, Lì saw her opportunity. She stepped forward, driving her foot downward on his blade as she drove the antenna blade forward. He quickly released his grip on his sword, leaning to the side before reaching out and grasping her arm.

“Do not think you will win so easily,” Yīng threatened.

She had to admit, he was more skilled than the average imperial, but she wouldn’t let some dumb envoy get the better of her. With his hand still wrapped around her wrist, she yanked him forward, driving the sorcerous blade towards his shoulder. Perhaps this sword could steal his qi. Perhaps it would turn him into a puppet or enslave him. Even if it didn’t do anything, perhaps she could open up enough of a wound to infest him with caterpillars. They would eat him from the inside out, digest him, and become beautiful butterflies.

But her plan was foiled once again as he grasped this wrist as well. Shifting his weight, he drove his curled shoe into her midsection, throwing her back several feet.

That hurt. She could feel the impact reverberate through her ribs where the building had impacted them. If only Làng had succumbed to her butterflies, this would be so much easier. She wouldn’t be fighting with injuries, and she would be luring Shāng Bù Huàn into her grasp. What was it with this country that gave everyone so much trouble? She would have to rethink her strategy in this land if she wanted to return home with that Index.

She slashed at the air with the sorcerous dagger, frowning sharply as nothing actually happened. Was this a dud?

Yīng snorted an arrogant laugh. “Did I hit you so hard that you’re seeing sideways, assassin?”

She seethed. He was making fun of her, but now wasn’t the time to let her temper flare. If she suffered more internal injuries, she very well could die here much like Xiē Yīngluò did. She would not make the same mistake as that failure.

She released the swords, letting them disappear into darkness. She would repair and emerge like a butterfly reborn. Then she would kill this annoying man and turn him into butterfly food. Drawing her hand upward, she summoned dozens of butterflies and disappeared into the brush with them as her cover.

Yīng frowned a bit as he pried his sword out of the ground. He had heard Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins were a bit more fierce, but perhaps Xiào Kuáng Juǎn really was that incompetent. No wonder it was so easy to take his place.

“Quite the show, Sir Ying!” Lǐn applauded. It truly had been mostly one-sided as he’d expected, but Lǐn had noticed Ying’s confidence and arrogance soaring that entire short fight. He could work with this. “That assassin was no match for someone like you!”

Yīng sheathed his sword with a bit of a smug grin. “It was a simple matter, Sir Guǐ Niǎo. Now, let us be on our way to the Vermillion Fortress.”

Lǐn hadn’t expected that to be Ying’s next move. Xiào Kuáng Juǎn may have very well pursued the assassin through the forest and killed her. “Is it truly wise to leave someone like that to roam free in Dōng Lí?”

Yīng peered at Lin. This was his country, after all, and someone like that could potentially be a threat. Though with how weakly she fought, perhaps she was just a low-ranking assassin. “She is likely after one thing here: Shāng Bù Huàn and his Sorcerous Sword Index. If we leave her be, she may very well eventually lead us to him by stirring up trouble and engaging him in combat. It’s like following a trail of breadcrumbs.”

“And where Shāng Bù Huàn is, Làng Wū Yáo may be close behind,” Lǐn reasoned. He knew they were always together. They were friends after all. Between the two of them, they could handle that assassin, given that Shāng didn’t go and get himself poisoned again. There was always that. He had a good heart but sometimes his head wasn’t screwed on straight.

“Given that she is attacking random passers-by, it’s likely she hasn’t located him either,” Yīng continued. “The Fortress may be a better source of information at the moment.”

Lǐn tapped his pipe with his finger, humming as if he was deep in thought. He was thinking, but not in the way he was implying. He was scheming. Yīng was a lot more strategic than Xiào ever was. This could be quite enjoyable. “Then let us be on our way, Sir Ying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Yīng fight! I imagine his sword is curved almost like a scimitar but still looks like a regular broadsword. A slight curve like the Night of Mourning but not so thick. And of course it has an eagle motif. Why wouldn't it?
> 
> Boy there is so much arrogance in this chapter.


	10. The fallen fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yīng and Lǐn see the destruction and the damage of the Vermillion Fortress first hand. Could something here tip them off to what really happened?

“I can assure you, Sir Yīng, this isn’t how our fortresses generally look.” Lǐn Xuě Yā tapped his pipe with a hum, observing the massive amount of damage the fortress had endured. A battle had happened here, one fierce enough to take down part of one of the buildings. Shāng and Làng were much more careful around cities and towns, preferring to mitigate the damage as much as possible when innocent people were involved. It made them boring prey. The one who did this, however, definitely fell into the evil category.

Yīng Shòu Liè scanned the damage. Fortresses back in Xī Yōu had seen their fair share of damage, mostly at the hands of the empire and Huò Shì Míng Huáng, but the ones in Dōng Lí seemed rather respected. At least he gleaned that much off Lǐn on their journey here. Yīng would have to frame this right with what they could find if he didn’t want to drive off the one person who seemed to approve his presence in Dōng Lí. The longer he could keep Lǐn on his side, the better. Use Lǐn as a guide and informant, find the Virtuoso, coerce Làng, drag him back to Xī Yōu, never have to visit this weird Dōng Lí ever again.

It  _ seemed _ like it would’ve been an easy plan, but the short time he’d been in Dōng Lí, he realized how backwards and complicated everything really was. And now they had Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s little assassin in the mix. She wasn’t much of a challenge, but his posse’s presence could run interference with his task here.

Yīng strode forward, observing the damage this fortress had endured. The compound was large enough to be a small palace nestled deep within the forest, but that didn’t seem to be enough to save them from whatever had happened here. Broken buildings, a strange amount of leaf-like substances scattered about that didn’t seem to belong. That one building in the back that had collapsed.

“I wonder, Sir Yīng. Do you think that assassin we encountered could’ve done this?” Lǐn questioned. “Or perhaps someone else?”

“With how weak that assassin was? Unlikely,” Yīng replied. “What about villainous groups here?”

“After Shāng Bù Huàn supposedly single-handedly took down the Xuán Guǐ Zōng, there hasn’t been much of a threat from within Dōng Lí,” Lǐn replied. Lǐn himself had ultimately caused Miè Tiān Hái’s death in the end, but technicalities. Yīng didn’t need to know the minor details.

“Did he now?” Yīng questioned. “If he took down the greatest villain here, then likely no one would step up against him.”

“Ho~. What an interesting thought!” Lǐn exclaimed. “Even Xiào Kuáng Juǎn didn’t think of that one.”

Yīng stared at the damaged buildings. It seemed that despite his rather excellent notes of his work before achieving his high status, Xiào struggled with his work  _ after _ he became an envoy. He had made a name for himself hunting fugitives, breaking up smuggling rings, and busting drug rings, yet after that, when it came to pursuing Shāng Bù Huàn, he utterly flopped. It almost seemed like his discovery of Làng Wū Yáo and the subsequent events were just a fluke. “It seems he was more incompetent than I thought.”

_ That got his attention. _ “You’ll be much easier to work with than him, I am certain,” Lǐn fed his ego. He took a drag from his pipe, observing the arrogance swell in the young envoy. The bigger that ego, the more fun it would be to crush it.

Yīng stopped, staring at the collapsed building. It was only partially damaged, one half of it fallen while the rest was quite well intact. This damage was deliberate and was the worst in the entire fortress. Perhaps it was to get to whatever sword lay hidden within these walls.

Something shining in the afternoon light caught his attention. Carefully stepping over the rubble, Yīng reached forward and withdrew an ornate sword with a red hilt out of the rubble.

“Ho~. That looks like a seal guardian’s blade,” Lǐn pointed out. He recognized the design as the style of the Dān Clan with the red hilt and curved, almost flower-like design at the top of the blade. This one didn’t have the circular hand guard, indicating it was likely for male fighters. Juǎn Cán Yún. But what was he doing here? Perhaps they had come to pursue Lì Húdié and something happened. “Perhaps one of the ones who had fallen.”

Yīng turned the sword over in his hand. It was a rather ornate design, one that likely had some particular meaning or another. It was the only sword they had found so far in the ruined fortress. “Don’t you find it odd, Sir Guǐ Niǎo, that we haven’t found any bodies after such a recent attack?”

Lǐn flipped his bangs over his shoulder, rubbing at his chin. That hadn’t escaped his notice. It was a particularly odd thing that he hadn’t quite yet figured out. Perhaps there was a sorcerous sword that could cause them to disintegrate, but certainly not one from the Index. Shāng only used one in the most extreme of circumstances. Unless he broke it again. That would be troublesome. “Curious, is it not? Sorcerous sword, perhaps?”

“Exactly.” A slight grin escaped the envoy’s lips. It was an entertaining conclusion, one that Yīng had thought of as well. It seemed Lǐn was more than just a pretty face and a terrible smoking habit. “Whoever left this sword may be working with either Shāng Bù Huàn or Làng Wū Yáo. This could very well be the work of Shāng and whatever sword he pulled from that Index of his. We’ll need to do more investigation to see if the Virtuoso has truly reunited with that villain and what dangers they pose.”

Clan swords could be distinct. If he asked the right person, the sword could lead Yīng right to everyone else. And while putting Shāng and Làng in danger could be entertaining, Lǐn wanted to ensure Yīng wouldn’t be reaching his prey until Lǐn had already set the trap. He could take care of this minor issue easily. “Are you considering fighting against Shāng Bù Huàn?” Lǐn questioned.

“He is not my primary target, though delivering his head to Her Highness would not be a bad thing for  _ either  _ Xī Yōu or Dōng Lí,” Yīng reasoned. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

Lǐn flipped his hair over his shoulder.  _ So he really does think he can take on Sir Shāng, hmm? _ “To be rid of such a vicious villainous man with a dangerous Index? I say it would benefit us both, Sir Ying.”

Yīng stood back up, tucking the abandoned sword into his waistband. He stepped down from the rubble, his boots crunching on something. He moved his foot. Dead butterflies. So that assassin had been here and perhaps barely escaped from Shāng Bù Huàn’s tyranny. The story initially felt off, but these crushed butterflies set the timeline straight. Why she had attacked them in the forest still was left with uncertainty, but it didn’t truly matter. She would be easier to handle than the other two, especially if they’d reunited. “We should see if the local villages have seen anyone suspicious.”

“There is one not too far from here,” Lǐn informed him. Their path was leading them a bit too close to where the Dān Clan shrine now sat but a little coercion and a few illusions, and no one will give them the right information. He had to string this imperial along just a bit longer. It was much more enjoyable this way.

They reached the next town pretty quickly. Unlike the fortress, it was still very much standing upright. The marketplace bustled, a musician played a familiar Dōng Lí tune, smells of fresh shaobing bread wafted through the air. There was a good chance that they had passed through here given it was located between the shrine and the fortress, but Lǐn wasn’t entirely sure who had been at that fortress other than possibly Juǎn. They knew something he didn’t about that attack. Perhaps he’d pry the information out of Shāng later with a small exchange of information that would work in both their favor.

“Music is rather popular in the markets here,” Yīng observed.

“Who doesn’t like to hear a nice tune while out on errands?” Lǐn said. “This one seems to be a rather common tune. Doubtful it is either of our musicians.”

“Definitely not Làng Wū Yáo,” Yīng agreed. “The people are in control of their senses.” He wasn’t certain how much control Làng’s voice would have on a crowd this size, but if Xiào’s meticulous notes were anything to go by, his voice had driven people to villainy just so they could take hallucinatory drugs and get high off his voice. Làng had a power that Yīng didn’t quite understand, but he knew that Cháo Fēng wanted it all for herself. He would ensure she had a songbird for her birthday. “Let’s ask around.”

Yīng did most of the asking while Lǐn mostly “supervised” while puffing his pipe. With Yīng standing there, concealing facts quickly would be rather difficult. It would be worse if they split up, so watching over his shoulder was the better option.

“Yeah, I saw ‘em,” the merchant replied to Ying’s questioning. “A guy in all red with a pipa slung over his back.”

“That’s him,” Yīng confirmed.

“He had a seal guardian with him, one that looked injured,” the merchant continued. “Thought he might’ve helped someone out from the nearby fortress, but the kid didn’t look like he was from around here though. Young, blond, sticking to the red guy like glue.”

“Just the two of them?” Lǐn interjected before Yīng could.

“Mhm,” the merchant nodded. “Seemed like they were here for someone. This lovely woman playing a guqin. They chatted and left.”

Lǐn found the pairing a little strange, but they likely had some reasoning behind it. He would simply pry later and find out the full story, but it did confirm what he suspected. That blue musician did know them and was likely someone from Xī Yōu. A previously unmentioned ally perhaps. Shāng wasn’t exactly liberal with personal information. “Did you see where they went?”

The merchant shook his head. “Hard to say. I was more focused on sales than whatever those musicians were up to. Kinda hoping they would stay and play some songs, but probably had somewhere else to be.”

Yīng offered a polite nod, dragging Lǐn off. “They were here. Someone had to see where they went.”

“Surely you do not suggest we interrogate everyone here, Sir Ying,” Lǐn protested. “That would take days.” Not that Lǐn really expected many people to point to the shrine so specifically, but he had better things to do with his time. “And besides, the pathways are through the forest. Unless someone met them along the way, the answer likely would simply be ‘out.’ Perhaps it would be more wise to return to the office for now, seek out new leads. With the forest so thick and little in the surrounding area, it is unlikely we will find them anytime soon.”

Yīng frowned a bit. Pressuring people here wouldn’t work. He didn’t have the sway here like he did in Xī Yōu. “A valid point as always, Sir Guǐ Niǎo. Very well. Let us regroup.”

“A good choice, Sir Ying.” A return would give Lǐn the time to replace that sword before anyone knew what clan it belonged to. An easy task for a thief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some insight into how each of them thinks! Ying is just so certain in everything, despite how young he is. He's probably closer to Juan's age, maybe a little older. But yanno how it goes. Just got a great job, think you know everything because the guy before you was probably incompetent, desperate to please the boss. You'll do better, you know with certainty, and that makes you absolutely unbearable to your coworkers.
> 
> Just the kind of person Lin likes to screw with.


	11. Mountain songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lang needs time to think about Ying's intentions. Singing under the moonlight sounds like a good place to start.

The moon hung low above the mountainside trees. Crickets sang their nightly tune. A few owls cried out in the distance. Làng Wū Yáo’s boots tapped lightly against the stone stairs leading away from the shrine. He peered back up the mountain. That seemed like a good enough distance where no one would feel the pull of his voice.

“Still angry about that poster, huh,” Líng Yá said.

Làng didn’t even need to pull the strings to say he was stewing about it. He left that side of himself in the snowy mountains when he decided to take his own path. He formed his resolve, he chose his path, he found his friends. They were awkward at first, but Làng was never good at people. Mù Tiān Mìng he somewhat understood, but Shāng took some time.

He sat down on the stairs, pulling one knee closer as he propped Líng Yá up on it.

“What’re you thinking of doing, man?” Líng Yá questioned.

Làng didn’t have a good answer for that yet. He wanted to take out the envoy and be done with it, but he knew after dealing with Xiào Kuáng Juǎn so much that it never would be that easy. No, it would likely be an ordeal, especially with one who had risen to power on intellect. Yīng Shòu Liè would be a challenge.

He plucked the pipa’s strings quickly. His emotions poured out as he began his song.

“ _ The thing that swung downward, _

_ Is it the punishment for my anger? _

_ Is getting released from being chained, a blessing? _ ”

The empire had long since given up on returning Làng to his former songbird life. They had tried, and tried desperately, almost succeeded once, but each time they always failed. He had hoped after so many failed attempts that Cháo Fēng would’ve forgotten her obsession with him. But this was the crown princess they were dealing with. Obsessive and violent was what she did.

“ _ The rain drying up on my cheeks is, _

_ someone's remains, having called for a storm, I wonder? _

_ Not even knowing of peace, _

_ It's being led by a hot impulse, going on _ ”

He did wonder if he would ever be free of that past, without the empire pursuing him because of it. He once thought it was the only way to be, to make his way into the imperial court so his supernatural voice could be protected. He couldn’t harm anyone with it, he couldn’t coerce them, he couldn’t be hated for it. But it was all just what his mother had told him. He was miserable, he felt trapped, and his encounter with Shāng and Mù had given him a way out.

“ _ Without forgiveness Wo O O Oh Wa Oh _

_ It's better to kill the boredom _

_ Kiss Goddess of Death Wo O O Oh Wa Oh _

_ The heart is rolling in a direction _ ”

Làng paused in his song, hearing heels on the stone steps behind him.

“I thought I might find you out here singing, Wū Yáo.” Mù stepped down the stairs, sitting next to him. She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “It is a lovely night, isn’t it? It reminds me of the times when we met at the pagoda back in Xī Yōu.”

“It is,” Làng agreed, peering out at the scenery. He had to admit it was rather serene. The scenery looked different than when they first met, but the idea was still the same. A peaceful night where no one would bother them.

“Though I’m sure you’re not out here just to watch the moon,” Líng Yá pointed out.

“No, but it was a nice distraction, wasn’t it?” Mù smiled.

He always felt at ease around her, and he knew he could talk to her about literally anything. He had confessed to her about the voice he’d heard, about his concerns and that he couldn’t quite leave his situation. He was saddened when he didn’t see her again. That same closeness had only strengthened over the past ten years. And right now, he felt like he needed that closeness to deal with the emotions welling up inside him. “It’s nice having you here,” Làng admitted. 

“Even though I’ve brought troubling news?” Mù questioned

Làng nodded.

Mù laughed. “I didn’t expect any other answer, honestly.” She peered up at the moon sitting peacefully in the sky. “I do wish I had come with better news. It’s not hard to tell you’re upset about it. I can feel it in your voice.”

“Of course he’s pissed about it, man,” Líng Yá confirmed. “Some young imperial bastard using the Hunting Fox’s notes is trying to drag Làng back to that sadistic princess who kept him like a pet! How could he not be upset? Frustrated, pissed off, wants to get rid of the imperial bastard. All of that, man!”

Mù found the description of his past crude but accurate. Even after all these years, Làng still had never fully talked about what happened at the palace. Líng Yá would let something slip once in a while, but Làng seemed to just want to put that former self behind him. “We’re certainly not letting some imperial envoy drag you back to Xī Yōu, and I know you wouldn’t let that happen either. But this one seems like he could be a problem for us. We’ll have to work through this together.”

Làng certainly wouldn’t let himself be dragged back either, nor would he go willingly. He’d rather fight. “What do you know about him? Perhaps there is something that we might be able to use.”

“Information about him in general is rather sparse,” Mù replied. “I do know he goes by the Soaring Eagle. Unlike the Hunting Fox, he doesn’t seem to have the respect of his peers.”

“So he’s an even bigger pompous ass than the Fox bastard,” Líng Yá observed.

“It seems that way,” Mù confirmed. “His motions are planned, his actions seem calculated, his words glazed over by a politeness that feels hollow. There was a complete lack of compassion in his voice. It just felt cold. Our brief interaction told me this. This envoy is intelligent compared to the Hunting Fox’s rather forceful methods.”

“So a cold, calculating bastard,” Líng Yá said. “Great.”

“There’s so much we simply don’t know, but when has that ever stopped us,” Mù said hopefully. “Bù Huàn said he might know someone who has more information, though he didn’t seem certain about asking him.”

“I bet he’s thinking of that damn pipe smoking bastard!” Líng Yá hissed.

“Lǐn Xuě Yā.” Làng wrinkled his nose.

“The one who dragged Bù Huàn into the mess with the Xuán Guǐ Zōng?” Mù recalled the name.

“Conniving thief!” Líng Yá hissed.

“He is trouble with evil in his heart, but Bù Huàn seems to have some faith in him. Very little,” Làng added. “As much as I do not like him, he did help us in dealing with the Seven Blasphemous Deaths and in a way, with the Hunting Fox.”

“That doesn’t make him any better!” Líng Yá fussed.

“It does not,” Làng agreed.

“An ally at arm’s length,” Mù understood. “Though why would a thief from Dōng Lí get tangled up with the Fox?”

“He seems to enjoy stealing things from bad guys!” Líng Yá replied. “Though I think that fox bastard outdid him. He had a hissy fit with whatever happened between those two! Even after he screwed with us enough times to screw with the fox.”

“Bù Huàn has said that it was better to be on his side than against him,” Làng recalled. “Lǐn Xuě Yā seems to hold no ill will towards Bù Huàn, but that thief’s targets and his little games will likely cause Bù Huàn more trouble than they already have. Lǐn Xuě Yā is conniving, but he did save Bù Huàn’s life. He’s  _ tolerable _ .” Definitely much more tolerable than the imperial that was now after Làng. At least Lǐn  _ seemed  _ to be their ally. Mostly. Didn’t mean that Làng had to actually  _ like _ him.

Mù had to admit she was curious about this Lǐn Xuě Yā character now. An ally that played both sides, one that potentially had a lot of information, possibly the man she saw with Yīng Shòu Liè at the markets. “I’d like to meet this person myself. Would you be upset if I went with Bù Huàn to meet him and you stayed behind? Just in case Lì Húdié decides to grace us with her appearance.”

Làng shook his head. “Not at all.” He wasn’t certain that Lì Húdié would actually show up here. He had dropped a roof on her head recently, and if she had survived - and it was likely she had - that would require time to recover. “I would rather Bù Huàn not meet him alone.”

“And besides,” Mù added, “Juǎn Cán Yún seems to have taken a liking to you. You could get to know him a bit better.”

Làng still didn’t understand him completely but their talk in the forest had given the bard a little bit of insight. He still didn’t know how to handle the blond, but he did promise him something that Làng understood well. “I did say I would help him with his stance. He’s trying to use a sword like a two-handed weapon.”

“That seems a little silly,” Mù mused. “But if anyone can help him with it, it’s you, Wū Yáo. Your form is quite refined.” She didn’t need to say  _ unlike Bù Huàn  _ as they both knew how unpolished Shāng’s style truly was.

She was happy that he was able to get along with Juǎn. Làng rarely spoke to anyone but Shāng and herself, and it seemed like the only other person he’d spoken to in Dōng Lí was Lǐn Xuě Yā. Probably more Líng Yá doing the talking.

But there was also a part of her that was concerned with running into Yīng Shòu Liè before they were ready. She had no time to prepare or find Shāng and Làng before the imperial had arrived in Dōng Lí. That imperial party certainly got here fast. Certainly they could handle the situation, but with someone who could so quickly take Xiào Kuáng Juǎn’s place in the empire, they had to err on the side of caution. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Làng to them.

“Why don’t we sing a song, Wū Yáo?” Mù offered.

He peered at her, finding her smiling back at him.

“It’s been awhile since we sang together, and it’s just us out here under the moon’s watchful eye,” Mù added.

She had a point. His voice couldn’t affect anyone out here. “Let us sing together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to interviews, Lang can be very chatty with Shang, and in the movie, he was very chatty with Mu as well. I'd imagine he is still quite chatty when it's just them and no one else, particularly when he has something to say. And boy does he have words to say about Lin and Ying.


	12. By the lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion by the lake of current events and perhaps teasing Shang just a bit.

The lake was calm and peaceful, as it always was. The Enigmatic Gale dangled his foot over the dock, leaning against one of the posts. One hand was preoccupied with a pipe, the other with a fishing rod. He wasn’t quite interested in catching fish but he was expecting to catch something. Or someone, as it usually was.

It wasn’t hard to make up some excuse to leave Yīng Shòu Liè.  _ Checking in on some sources, seeing if we have some new leads _ , he’d said. Worked every time. These imperial types could be so predictable, and with his current guise as an imperial inspector, no one really questioned the statement. It made things  _ easy _ .

It wasn’t as though the statement was  _ inaccurate _ . Lǐn Xuě Yā  _ was _ checking in on someone, just not someone who would actually help Yīng in his mission. It would make things worse for him, which amused the Gale endlessly. Inflate the imperial’s ego, lead him on a wild goose chase, make him think he’s outsmarting his target, steal everything from him when the prey was at its prime. This time, surely it would work out for him. His last two targets had been entertaining, but they didn’t quite end how he had hoped. Xiào Kuáng Juǎn’s reaction still irritated Lin, but at least he could rag on him with Yīng constantly. Made things a bit better.

Now all he had to do was wait, and Lǐn could be a very patient man. Sooner or later, Shāng Bù Huàn would be by. Lǐn knew that the blue musician was somehow associated with them now after word she left the town with Làng Wū Yáo. She had to be here for a reason, definitely from Xī Yōu by how Yīng had reacted to her song. They both had information, different information, and that could work to both their advantage to further screw with Yīng and his plans.

Shāng and his friends certainly did attract entertaining trouble.

And sure enough, Shāng had come. “I thought I’d find you here,” he announced his arrival.

Lǐn glanced over his shoulder, hearing a second person approach. Noticeable heels on the shoes, but it wasn’t Làng with him. “Ah, so we meet again, Lady Musician.”

Mù Tiān Mìng peered at the white-haired man.  _ So this is Lǐn Xuě Yā _ . _ Wū Yáo was right in thinking he was the one accompanying Yīng Shòu Liè. _ After their duet, Làng had detailed what he knew of Lǐn, though most of it was accompanied by sour distrust. Lǐn had a suspiciously vast knowledge of poisons. He could create replicas of items. He controlled illusions that confused all five senses. And strangely he did act as an ally on more than one occasion, not that Làng trusted him all that much regardless. “It seems we do.”

“This is Lǐn Xuě Yā,” Shāng introduced the pair. “And this is Mù Tiān Mìng. Though it seems you two have already met.”

Lǐn peered back at her. Shāng had never mentioned he had a female companion, not that Shāng really spoke much about Xī Yōu. She seemed to be sizing him up, leaving Lǐn to wonder who had told her what. She hadn’t attempted to kill him so perhaps she was more reasonable than Làng. Speaking of which. “I assume you’re here because of Yīng Shòu Liè and his rather intriguing mission here.” 

“I had a feeling you’d be tangled with him somehow,” Shāng said.

“I do have a type, Sir Shāng.” Lǐn shifted just enough to kick a leg up on up on the docks as he leaned back on the post. He took a drag of the pipe. “Are you jealous this imperial isn’t after you this time?”

Shāng frowned sharply.

“Ho~,” Lǐn hummed. How quickly that got under Shāng’s skin. “No need to be so cranky, Sir Shāng.”

Shāng frowned even more sharply than before.

“We’re not fond of people targeting our friends,” Mù spoke for him before Shāng’s frown reached the ground.  _ Especially not one who wants to threaten Wū Yáo’s freedom. _

“Worry not, Lady Mù,” Lǐn took another puff of his pipe. “I do not plan on letting Yīng Shòu Liè kidnap Sir Làng, as much as the bard and I don’t seem to get along. It wouldn’t be fun, after all if I just let Yīng find him so easily.”

“And what if it simply amuses you to lead Yīng Shòu Liè to Wū Yáo?” Mù questioned sharply, folding her arms. She could see why Lǐn rubbed Làng the wrong way so much. Lǐn looked like he was constantly plotting something and probably was. She wasn’t certain she could trust this man all that much either.

A smile curled at the edges of the thief’s lips. “Sir Làng has very little I’d want to steal so he’d be of little amusement. Ying, however, has quite a bit. Intelligent strategy that makes him a challenge. Arrogance that is larger than the moon itself. He already believes himself better than both Sir Shāng  _ and _ Sir Làng.” How Lǐn wanted to knock Yīng down several pegs and watch his inflated ego shatter. It would be so much fun and so satisfying. “And besides, I’ve already gone to great lengths to ensure that he doesn’t track you easily. It just wouldn’t be fun if he crossed your paths.” Not yet, at least.

Lǐn leaned over to grab something long wrapped in a cloth. Picking it up, he tossed it to Shāng. “It seems our dear young friend left something behind recently.”

Shāng unwrapped the bundle. “Juǎn’s sword!” He peered at Lǐn suspiciously.

Lǐn leaned back on his perch. “It’s real, Sir Shāng. Yīng took an interest in it when we traveled to the Vermillion Fortress. He was certain it would lead him to Sir Làng. Stole the real one right from behind his back and replaced it with an altered replica. Changed a few details here, made it unrecognizable as a Dān Clan sword. Even if he asked, it would lead him nowhere.” Lǐn looked rather pleased with himself as he puffed his pipe.

Mù frowned a bit. Lǐn did seem to be helping them but only for his own amusement. He was definitely conniving and troublesome, but she could see why Shāng had said it was better to be his ally than his enemy. “Surprising that he didn’t guard such an important item more.”

Lǐn hummed, amused. He curled one leg over the other, disinterested in the fishing pole that still seemed to catch nothing. “Making a swap when he had his back turned is child’s play, Lady Musician. It’s a simple trick to disguise the real one as a pipe and replace it with a replica. And with where we found it, I am curious what has occupied your attention as of late, Sir Shāng. Could it be that assassin from Xī Yōu?”

“Lì Húdié,” Shāng said.

“So  _ that’s _ her name,” Lǐn mused. “She attacked us in the forest, though rather unsuccessfully.” Yīng drove her off, quite arrogantly and confidently. “She was already injured by the time we crossed paths.”

“She ransacked the Vermillion Fortress, and Wū Yáo and Juǎn confronted her there,” Shāng recalled the story. Làng had dropped the roof on her, literally, in order to protect Juǎn and flee without becoming cocooned. Disturbing honestly. “It’s possible she may have a sacred sword, though neither saw it.”

Lǐn hummed, tapping his pipe on his knee. “Ho~. Well she did have two unique swords when she confronted us. How troublesome that would be if Yīng knew this.”

Shāng huffed. “Now listen here, Enigmatic Gale---”

“--don’t get your ponytail in a knot, Sir Shāng,” Lǐn interrupted him. “I know as well as you those swords don’t belong in Yīng’s hands. We’ve already seen what the Hunting Fox did with  _ one _ . I’d rather lead him in circles in a fruitless search for Sir Làng without him ever knowing that a sorcerous sword is on the loose. You’re much better suited to handle this problem.”

“He’s from Xī Yōu. He knows what Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s group is after and what they can do,” Mù pointed out.

“True. He did mention such,” Lǐn recalled. “He didn’t seem all that interested in pursuing her. He considered her weak and unthreatening after fighting her. That ego of his sure is rather large.” He smirked, ideas of how to inflate Yīng’s ego even more gracing his mind. “Besides, at the moment, he’s more intent on finding Sir Làng.”

Shāng frowned a bit, folding his arms. “So what, we just leave this imperial to you while we pursue Lì Húdié?”

“Of course, Sir Shāng,” Lǐn hummed. “What are friends if not to take care of each other’s problems?”

It seemed that Shāng really didn’t have a say otherwise, not that this wouldn’t work to their benefit. They could pursue Lì Húdié before she either figured out what the mystery sorcerous sword was capable of doing or returned to Xī Yōu with it. One less sword he’d have to deal with later, and one less imperial. It was inevitable that their paths would cross, but Lǐn would probably make up some excuse to retreat or carry the imperial off himself.

Shāng sighed. “Very well. I’d rather not deal with some hothead imperial  _ and _ Lì Húdié at the same time. Just make sure to uphold your end.”

“When have I not come through for you, Sir Shāng?” Lǐn questioned.

Shāng frowned. “Each time but it involved a lot of screwing with your allies.”

Lǐn tapped his pipe on his knee. “All part of deceiving the target, of course. Trust me on this one, Sir Shāng. Deception, misdirection, inflating his ego with every step of the way while equally ensuring he never attains his goals. This one will be the most entertaining prey yet.”

Shāng frowned even more. His wording didn’t exactly instill confidence in him.

“Just do your part, and I’ll do mine,” Lǐn added.

Shāng huffed, rubbing an annoyed hand through his hair. Lǐn is dragging them through his schemes again, and somehow he had a bad feeling this wouldn’t turn out the way that Lǐn thought it would. Much like the last two times. But at the moment, it seemed like the best path forward. “Alright, fine. Deal.”

“I can always count on you to be reasonable in the end, Sir Shāng,” Lǐn mused. Oh yes, this would benefit them all in the end. Perhaps Lǐn more than the rest, but he had to amuse himself somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the lake where they talk and that Lin fishes for absolutely nothing each time amuses me to no end. Obviously this had to be included. How could I not honestly? I had to have at least one time where Lin just eggs Shang on the whole time and gets under his skin, and this is the best location for it.
> 
> I honestly see Lin as concerned with sorcerous swords more for the future of Dong Li but not necessarily the people in general. They're a means to an end but a means he could not live without. The conversation with Mie Tian Hai definitely erred towards this. So now that he knows about the Sorcerous Sword Index, Lin likely believes that the swords are best there, and that leaves him to toy with his prey without expecting the world to end like it nearly did in Season 1.
> 
> Lin's nickname was a strange one to concoct. Originally it was Miss Musician, but his use of keigo (incredibly formal and slightly archaic Japanese) that's translated to Sir made Miss feel too informal for him. I almost went with Madam Musician but the correct counterpart to Sir in terms of knights and lords is actually Lady. That's the correct title of a female knight or a dame. A rabbit hole of European medieval titles I did not expect to find myself in.


	13. A fruitless search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin misdirects and smokes far too much.  
> But who is misdirecting who?

Lǐn Xuě Yā had learned a lot from his conversation with Shāng Bù Huàn and Mù Tiān Mìng at the lake. He’d confirmed Mù’s association with them, who was at the Vermillion Fortress, and how much they knew about the situation. He’d told them quite a bit in return, though he left a bit of information out here and there. Just minor things, and as long as Shāng and company tailed Lì Húdié, Lǐn could keep Yīng Shòu Liè from finding them.

He perched himself on the railing of a walkway. He took a long drag of the pipe, letting the smoke waft out over the peaceful garden. He had to admit the imperials did know how to keep a nice garden with shady trees and ponds filled with koi.

Though his focus wasn’t primarily on the garden. It was on his target. Lǐn had fed the imperial lies about where he was going. It wasn’t exactly hard. Lǐn seemed to have a lot of contacts, and after the trail went cold near the Vermillion Fortress, leaving to gather information seemed like a logical thing to do.

Now that left Lǐn considering ideas of what to tell Yīng when they crossed paths again. The imperial had gone to do his own investigations with the false Dān Clan sword, probably intimidating seal guardians or locals to get information with that overbearing politeness that tried to mask arrogance and lack of personal space.

Lǐn considered another false lead, but he couldn’t get away with that forever. Yīng was intelligent and might figure out what Lǐn is doing. The thief would simply need to be clever about where he misled the imperial. At the moment, he had no idea where Lì Húdié had gone. Coordinating movements so that Yīng didn’t cross paths with Shāng or Làng just yet would be more difficult, but it wasn’t beyond his capabilities. A few illusions here, a few lies here, just enough to make it believable that they were on the right trail while leading Yīng in the exact wrong direction.

The Enigmatic Gale watched as a pair of guards shuffled by nervously. “Ah, it looks like Sir Yīng has returned as well.”

Yīng frowned, holding the fake Dān Clan sword in his hand as he approached. The place was still unsettled around him but Xiào Kuáng Juǎn quite effectively mucked everything up, making this task much more difficult than it really needed to be. At least they had stopped trying to threaten him at Lin’s insistence. That man certainly had sway around the place, perhaps since he was one of few who survived Xiào’s unbecoming behavior.

“I’m not surprised to see you here, Sir Guǐ Niǎo,” Yīng said. “It is quite a sight, this garden. It’s very different from the scenery in Xī Yōu ,but it has a certain beauty to it.”

“Ho~?” Lǐn hummed. He admittedly wasn’t focused on the garden. “What do gardens look like in Xī Yōu?”

“They are often filled with flowering trees, winding pathways, and ponds. Much more colorful than the consistent green here,” Yīng recalled. “Only in the winter are trees not blooming in the gardens.”

“How interesting they are so different, even with our lands separated for just 200 years,” Lǐn mused. “Do you miss it?”

“I will soon return to it,” Yīng replied confidently. There was no time to be homesick when a job needed completing. “Though not just yet, it seems lead has gone nowhere.”

Lǐn rubbed at his chin seemingly thoughtfully. “No one could identify the sword?”

Yīng shook his head. “Either no one nearby knows or they’re not talking.” The people he spoke to hadn’t run from him in fear, but they certainly were looking at him strangely.

“You look official but with unidentifiable origins,” Lǐn reasoned. “A foreigner in a land where foreigners are rare.”

Yīng had even left without lawmen, heading off to investigate. He didn’t really need them anyway as he could handle himself. Normally. It seemed like Dōng Lí required a different approach and so far, most of his attempts had failed. Coercion seemed like a likely next step, but if they truly didn’t know, then it would be a wasted effort.

“But it’s also likely that the sword belongs to one of the smaller guardian clans,” Lǐn added. “There are dozens scattered across Dōng Lí and not everyone would know all of them. It could be that the fortress was entertaining a guest or it could be that the one with Làng Wū Yáo had once owned the sword.”

Yīng frowned just a bit. It was easier when they could just raid a seal shrine and be done with it, but this place was a different matter. He couldn’t force the seal shrine or the clan to do anything for him. He was a foreigner. But he’d faced greater odds. “Just a slight setback in our possible paths. Did your contact produce better results?”

Lǐn knew the question would come. He had considered a few leads, but giving him a vague answer wouldn’t work this time. Yīng was strategic and intelligent. Lǐn would have to play this smart, and that made it more fun. If the imperial had been easy prey, Lǐn would’ve already moved on to a better target. “It seems that Làng Wū Yáo and his companions had headed south from that village where they all united.”

“South? Back towards the Fortress?” Yīng questioned.

Lǐn nodded. “Indeed. There are several lesser paths through that forest. They took one that headed west. But that’s where it gets fuzzy. His hearing is uncannily sharp and he was able to easily evade my trackers.”

Yīng hadn’t heard of Làng’s hearing before. It was a rather strange detail to note, and seemed like Lǐn was almost withholding information. Was it possible Lǐn knew more than he was saying? “Was it his hearing or were your trackers too easy to spot?”

Lǐn tapped his pipe against the side of his head. Perhaps there was information that even Yīng didn’t know or was not told. Lǐn didn’t know much of anything about Làng’s past, and he only knew about Làng’s impeccable hearing after fighting beside him.

Yīng peered at Lǐn for a moment, watching him nonchalantly puff his pipe. Perhaps he was overthinking this. Perhaps it was just perception of what had happened. But there seemed to be something more. That easy going attitude, that he smelled like a lake, that sometimes he had specific details and sometimes he did not. Lǐn definitely wasn’t an idiot as far as he could tell. He could be misleading Yīng but what would Lǐn gain from doing something like that?

Lǐn peered back at Ying. The imperial seemed strangely difficult to read at the moment. The Soaring Eagle seemed to be thinking deeply about something. He puffed his pipe a bit. Perhaps a misdirection would do. “It certainly seemed like he could hear them from quite a distance, almost like he could track their movements and attack them from a distance to throw them off his trail. Simply details they relayed back to me.”

Yīng frowned a bit. If Làng truly had sharp hearing, it would only alert him to their approach. But that certainly didn’t mean he wouldn’t be dragging the Virtuoso back home soon enough regardless. “It seems trying to tail them won’t work. We should investigate ourselves. What is west of the Vermillion Fortress?”

“A large town, some small shrines to various gods, no fortresses,” Lǐn recalled the route. “It almost seems like he’s misled us but he hasn’t been seen returning on the path. There is a good chance he did indeed pass that way to a new destination.”

Yīng folded his arms thoughtfully. Either Làng was heading somewhere specific or he was aimlessly meandering without knowledge of this land. He still hadn’t been seen with Shāng, but he’d reunited with the blue musician singing songs from Xī Yōu. “Perhaps to wherever that seal guardian with him had come from.”

Lǐn peered at the imperial. He hadn’t put any ideas into the Eagle’s head but sure enough, Yīng had thought of Làng’s destination. Of course, that  _ was _ Làng’s destination. He had taken Juǎn Cán Yún back to the Dān Clan shrine in the  _ opposite  _ direction. “An excellent thought, Sir Ying. If he is, we can use this to track his movements. Seal guardians are quite easy to spot. We could head in that direction in the morning. It has been a long day.”

Yīng nodded. “Bright and early.”

Lǐn hopped off the walkway ledge, flipping his hair over his shoulder before puffing at his pipe again. “Do get some rest. It will require some travel.”

Yīng watched Lǐn head down the hallway. Something felt off about this whole conversation. Lǐn was hiding something, and it wasn’t just where he’d been for the past several days. That nonchalant attitude of his felt like a cover for something, and that constant smoking and acting like he owned the place ticked him off. Perhaps he was overthinking this with the strange information Lǐn had about Làng’s hearing, but his gut said otherwise. His head felt like Lǐn had attempted to misdirect him, fuzzy his mind with errant thoughts until he believed the plan his own idea.

Perhaps this Guǐ Niǎo was one to watch very closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh. It looks like Ying may finally be on to Lin's game!


	14. Two swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ying becomes suspicious of Lin, Lang spars with Juan and attempts to figure out how to train with someone who isn't Shang.

Juǎn Cán Yún looked like he was trying to concentrate a bit too hard. He stood stiffly with a sparring sword in his hand as he stared across the courtyard.

Làng Wū Yáo, on the other hand, looked rather at ease with a simple borrowed blade in his hand and Líng Yá on his back. He had his eyes closed, his sensitive hearing mapping out the world around him. He could hear everything from the labored breaths of his sparring partner to the awkwardly imbalance stance he took.

“Relax a bit, kid,” Líng Yá said. “That stiff stance won’t do you any good.”

Juǎn frowned sharply. Làng’s stance was so different from Shāng’s. Everything about it was highly refined, each movement made with intent and very little energy. Even with his eyes closed, Làng defended against every attempted attack so easily it confused and even irritated him a bit. “I don’t have good hearing or anything to help me out!”

“No one really does,” Líng Yá said. “That’s something that Làng alone has.”

Juǎn huffed.

“It’s your stance that still needs work,” Làng opened his eyes. “Your legs are too stiff. You grip the sword so tightly as if you fear losing it.”

Juǎn stared down at his hand. He was holding it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He still thought of the time that Shāng had knocked it out of his hand and how miserably he failed when fighting Lì Húdié. It wore on him, much like when they had fought his old big bro and that demon. Perhaps he still wasn’t over how much it hurt to have Shòu Yún Xiāo turn against him.

He peered across the courtyard at Làng. The bard had a very easy stance that looked balanced and didn’t turn his hand white as he gripped the sword. Juǎn had noticed it before. Even when fighting Lì Húdié in such stressful conditions, Làng had looked balanced.

Juǎn took the sword into his other hand, flexing his hand to get the blood back into his fingers. He had so much to fight for, so much to protect. He didn’t hesitate in helping with the Sorcerous Sword Index when Shāng needed it against that weird monk and his sword obsession, and he wanted to help them out with their current butterfly problem. He just had to figure out how to do it without being his own worst enemy.

Làng watched the blond for a moment. He honestly had no idea how to train anyone, and the training that his mother gave him wouldn’t work. Not that Làng would go and hit someone with a switch if he got it wrong. That likely meant another approach. Làng wasn’t really good enough with people to know what that sort of approach really was.

Juǎn took the sword back in his usual hand, shifting his weight and trying to loosen up his stance. He was mimicking what Làng was doing. It was funny honestly. He had once tried to correct Dān Fei’s stance without even understanding the sword. Now he was the one getting his stance corrected. He’d been humbled since then, changed weapons and styles, and lost his eye.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Juǎn said.

“Come,” Làng beckoned him simply.

Juǎn sprang forward, already feeling the difference in the stance. He felt like he could move just a bit easier, a bit more balanced. It almost felt like he was wielding a lance but instead a sword. He simply had to remind himself that it wasn’t a lance else Làng would trip him up again.

Làng had closed his eyes again, listening to the footsteps and blocking Juǎn’s strike rather easily. The blond’s boots were easy to hear against the stone, making his movements simple to track. No deceiving Làng’s hearing like Lóu Zhèn Jiè but it took a certain kind of strategy to know how to outwit someone who could hear so acutely. Lǐn Xuě Yā maybe but he used illusions and that wasn’t exactly fair.

Làng caught Juǎn again, winning the spar.

“Dammit, I thought I was getting this finally,” Juǎn fussed.

“He’s got years of training on ya kid,” Líng Yá said over Làng’s shoulder. It was true but it wasn’t exactly comforting.

Làng flicked the pipa in the face over his shoulder before jumping backwards a bit. “Come.” It was almost like the drills with his mother, but Làng wasn’t ending up bloody each time and having to repeatedly wrap his hands. Juǎn wasn’t bloody from the sparring either but at least he seemed to be learning. With each successive attack, he seemed more stable on his feet. Perhaps all he actually needed was someone to nudge him in the right direction, not that Làng was expecting to be that someone.

Despite Juǎn’s best attempts to outmaneuver Làng, the bard seemed to get the better of him each time. It was that experience and refined yet vicious training kicking in. Juǎn frowned, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Man I really thought I could get you with a jumping attack!”

“This guy’s hearing extends well above the ground,” Líng Yá pointed out.

“That’s not fair!” Juǎn fussed.

“Not like the bad guy won’t try to take advantage of anything they can!” Líng Yá added.    
“There was that assassin that once took advantage of Làng’s hearing and that cicada----”

Làng cut him off with a flick to the face. He didn’t want to think about a cicada crawling into his ear to deafen him. It was not a pleasant experience by any means. It taught him a lot about how to deal with Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins, about his budding friendship with Shāng, and perhaps a bit about himself.

Juǎn frowned. He never did hear the rest of that story before Làng stopped the pipa from talking. Each time he’d heard just a little more, and each time, he was certain he didn’t want to hear the rest of it.

Làng turned, hearing their companions nearing the top of the stairs.

Shāng glanced between Làng and Juǎn. “Don’t let us interrupt.”

Juǎn huffed. “Làng was besting me every time anyway.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Mù smiled a bit. “Wū Yáo’s skills are very refined. The only one who can probably best him every time is Bù Huàn. As long as you’ve learned something from your little bout, you’re better off than before.”

Juǎn stared at Shāng for a moment. Honestly it wasn't too surprising that Shāng would be the stronger of the two given those bursts of qi he was capable of producing, though Làng was definitely no slouch either. Juǎn had admittedly never seen anyone bring a roof down by manipulating sound. He stared at the sword in his hand. He wasn’t gripping it so tightly anymore. “I think I have. Did you two find something out?”

“That pipe smoking bastard tell you anything  _ useful _ ?” the pipa questioned sharply. “Or did he make you run around in circles.”

“A bit useful,” Mù replied. “Though there were a lot of circles and irritating Bù Huàn.”

Shāng huffed. “He did at least confirm he is targeting Yīng Shòu Liè, not that we expected anything different from him.”

“He’s got a type,” Líng Yá commented, “and it’s bigger bastards than himself.”

“Yīng Shòu Liè definitely ranks near the top,” Mù agreed, “and if anything that Lǐn Xuě Yā said was actually true, it seems the imperial has a bigger head than I had believed possible. Though I’m not sure how one actually steals arrogance.”

“I haven’t really figured that one out yet,” Shāng admitted. “Though given how both Shā Wú Shēng and Xíng Hài wanted to kill him for stealing something intangible, I’d say reasonably well.” Shāng offered the wrapped sword to Juǎn. “For you, courtesy of the Enigmatic Gale.”

He took the offered bundle, staring at it as he unwrapped it. “My sword!”

“He stole it right off the imperial after he picked it up at the Fortress,” Shāng said.

“For someone so infamous and twisted, he really does come through for us sometimes, huh,” Juǎn admitted.

Shāng didn’t  _ want _ to admit that and Làng simply scoffed.

Mù glanced between the gathered party. That was about the reaction she expected from her companions now having met Lǐn Xuě Yā as well. She didn’t exactly trust him very much, but he did seem to be more their ally than their enemy. She certainly grilled him about it too, waiting to trip him up over his words.

“As much as he annoys me, it’s better he’s our ally anyway,” Shāng begrudgingly admitted. “And if he keeps that imperial out of our hair, the better for us. It gives us more time to search for Lì Húdié anyway while he entertains himself with our imperial problem.”

“Now our challenge is actually finding her,” Mù said. “Though we did catch a few rumors of unusual butterflies in the area. I think that’s our first lead.” They only had so much time before either Yīng caught up with them or Lì discovered the power of the sword she stole. Hopefully neither would come true and they could be rid of both problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't think that Juan ever really admitted to himself how much his big bro turning against him hurt. He talked about it in the forest either, but he's finally admitting to how much it affected him. At least to himself. It's hard talking to Lang who is kinda just this a silent and awkward duck. They're both kinda awkward ducks at times, aren't they?
> 
> Well at least Juan maybe will stop using his sword like a lance. Maybe.


	15. Suspicious companions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ying and Lin attempt to size each other up with their words.

Yīng Shòu Liè stared at Lǐn Xuě Yā’s back as they traveled to the western town. Traveling anywhere seemed to involve a forest that wanted to snag at his robes, but much of this region had large, unremarkable trees. They hadn’t passed much yet other than a shrine to Buddha here and there. 

But his focus wasn’t on Buddha statues. It was on his companion. After their conversation at the garden, Yīng had left to find the records hall. Intimidated a few guards, got them to move, and he found himself inside. He discovered quite a lot, skimming the scrolls that were there into the later hours of the night. Information on nearby seal guardian shrines, recent illegal activity, something about someone named Lǐn Xuě Yā that seemed to yield little information other than he was a dangerous phantom thief.

Yet no matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find the information he sought. He found records of cases, lists of agents and lawmen, but each seemed to miss one important name until Xiào Kuáng Juǎn first entered the records.

Guǐ Niǎo did not seem to exist.

Perhaps it was to be expected as the magistrate’s office was more local. It may very well not have information about an inspector on loan from the imperial office or that he simply hadn’t worked in the area before that disgrace Xiào had shown up.

But something bothered Yīng the whole scenario. Lǐn was known throughout the office. His presence wasn’t questioned, and the lawmen knew him by name. He lounged around like he owned the place and that attire of his was just odd. For an official inspector, he didn’t seem to wear any official clothing or carry any official insignia like a fan or ceremonial sword. He just had a pipe and that strange outfit.

But if he was an impostor, how did he do it so easily?

Yīng frowned. Perhaps he was overthinking this, but his gut said otherwise. Something was  _ off _ about Guǐ Niǎo.

“You seem quite trapped in thought, Sir Yīng,” Lǐn commented on his shoulder. “Could it be whatever has made you so tired this morning?”

Yīng stirred from his thoughts, peering at his traveling companion. Imperial training told him how to be composed at any given moment, and with a liege with a horrible temper, composure was everything. Inwardly, however, he was cursing at how observant Lǐn truly was. “Was it so obvious?”

“Most do not drink nearly a pot of tea with breakfast to stay awake,” Lǐn pointed out.

So that was what clued him off. Yīng probably overdid it this morning. “I was researching some local seal shrines.” It was only a partial lie. He did look them up last night, but that wasn’t really his intent for being there.

Lǐn peered back at his companion. Yīng certainly was acting a bit differently today, leaving the thief to wonder what he was truly up to. Yīng was intelligent, and that made him a challenge. Perhaps the comments about Làng’s hearing had tipped him off that Lǐn knew more than he said, but Yīng hadn’t quite asked. It was that irritating politeness he wrapped around his ambitious and arrogant ego. Lǐn had no reason to offer up the information either. If he let on that he actually  _ knew _ Làng, then everything would spiral out of control. Not that he’d make such an amateur mistake like that. “Still intent on finding the origin of that sword?”

_ Intent on learning more about you, Sir Guǐ Niǎo _ . “It is a rather important clue, especially since the guardian seems to still be in Làng Wū Yáo’s company. Learning more about this sword and its origins could point to why he is still with them and what he intends to do.”

_ A logical thought, not that this false replica will lead you anywhere _ . Lǐn had taken measures to ensure that no matter how hard Yīng searched, no one would be able to identify it. The changes were subtle enough that Yīng hadn’t noticed them, but drastic enough that the sword was unidentifiable. “We do have to consider this guardian may be working with him. Perhaps he has betrayed his clan.”

“I was under the impression that guardian clans were more noble than that here in Dōng Lí,” Yīng observed.

Lǐn flipped his hair over his shoulder as he faced Yīng. It was hard to judge reactions when glancing over his shoulder. “Even in noble clans can a bad egg exist. Perhaps Làng Wū Yáo has swayed this guardian to his side. You did say it yourself, Sir Yīng. In defeating the most vile of villains, Shāng Bù Huàn has his sway. Better be with his allies than against them.” The imperial was deep in thought. Perhaps Lǐn could get him to talk more so he could pick his brain and figure out what was occupying his mind more than usual.

That more lined up with what Yīng understood about seal guardians, though Dōng Lí seemed to have a lot backwards compared to Xī Yōu. He recalled the records of local thievery and villainy, but one particular name kept sticking in his mind. “Say, Sir Guǐ Niǎo, there is one name I found repeatedly in the records when researching last night. Lǐn Xuě Yā. Have you heard of this one?”

Lǐn seemed unfazed as he tapped his pipe against the side of his head. It was only natural that the magistrate’s office would have  _ some _ information about his exploits with petty thievery. It was something to pass the time when he got bored. Xiào Kuáng Juǎn had heard the name by breaking illusions with those annoying glasses of his. This one did  _ research _ . The challenge of stealing his arrogance had increased, but that made him even more of a tantalizing prey.

“There isn’t a soul in Dōng Lí who hasn’t heard that name,” Lǐn replied. “Many lawmen and locals alike give this name to inexplicable thievery. Missing chests, relics disappearing, things gone in the night. Sometimes someone has simply misplaced something and says it must be this phantom thief!” He was amusing himself with the descriptions.

“So no one has ever seen this Lǐn Xuě Yā,” Yīng reasoned.

“Not a soul,” Lǐn replied, “if the name is even more than just legend.” It also amused him that Yīng was completely unaware Lǐn Xuě Yā was actually standing before him, plotting to steal something valuable from him, and he didn’t have the slightest clue. “Did you think it might be a lead of some kind?”

“Considered it,” Yīng admitted. “Shāng Bù Huàn is a similar sort of name. It is known far and wide across Xī Yōu for his thievery and his intent on disrupting the fabric of society. If such a person existed as this Lǐn Xuě Yā, such villainous types could potentially be working together.”

_ If only you truly knew _ . “That is quite the thought!” Lǐn exclaimed. “Now if the phantom thief truly did exist, the pair joining up would be quite a challenge to counter! The Enigmatic Gale stealing swords in the night and Shāng Bù Huàn sealing them away or using them against people. And with Làng Wū Yáo’s powerful voice aiding them, there would be no rest for the countryside! But unfortunately no cases like that have surfaced. Lǐn Xuě Yā is nothing more than a phantom name, leaving those two villains without a thief to aid them.”

He had a point. The magistrate’s office didn’t have any news about strings of thievery or destruction in the area from Shāng, Làng, or this mysterious thief. Lǐn Xuě Yā’s records were vague at times, and none existed about Shāng or Làng. Something wasn’t adding up. “Sir Guǐ Niǎo, what are the odds that Làng Wū Yáo and his villainous companions are still in the western town?”

Lǐn could practically see Ying’s gears turning. The imperial was incredibly intelligent, a counter to his own plans to deceive him. This would take more work. “Given that Làng Wū Yáo didn’t change directions after he fled the trackers, rather unlikely.”

“Is there another imperial office in that region?” Yīng questioned.

_ He is planning something _ . Infiltrating another magistrate’s office would be child’s play, and his persona would let him go wherever he pleased ‘officially’. At this rate, with so many learning the name Guǐ Niǎo, he would need a new alias. But part of him wanted to see where this was going and it also kept Yīng  _ away from Làng _ until Lǐn could learn more about what made him tick. “There is. More research?”

Yīng nodded. “Following rumors hasn’t really bore fruit yet, and none of the behavior I know of both Shāng Bù Huàn and Làng Wū Yáo is adding up. We are missing something important, and while you had encountered the former while working with Xiào Kuáng Juǎn,”  _ that failure _ , “Làng Wū Yáo’s activities were unknown. If he has been sighted recently in the area, perhaps there are records of this.”

_ Oh he is good, but he still won’t find anything _ . Lǐn turned, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “Come, let us visit this office.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this one was a fun one to write. How would Ying come to know of Lin Xue Ya (the real one and not the Gui Niao persona)? Research of course! He is highly intelligent and the sort to pull an all-nighter just to see if he could figure out his companion's identity. He is right though, Lin's presence there is pretty damn suspicious. It was much easier to trick a fool like Xiao than an academic like Ying.
> 
> For now....
> 
> Even Xiao eventually figured it out.


	16. Butterfly daggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Li Hudie is having a no good, very bad day

Lì Húdié was still upset, but that was to be expected. Ever since she’d come to Dōng Lí, it had been challenge after challenge. She had considered it was Xiē Yīngluò’s own repeated failures that did her in, but after facing Làng Wū Yáo for the first time, she realized perhaps it wasn’t as much Xiē’s incompetence as it was Làng and Shāng’s strength. Even carrying an injured ally, Làng had been a force to contend with.

But there was another problem at hand. A Xī Yōu imperial who had crossed the wastelands as well. He recognized that she served Huò Shì Míng Huáng, but she didn’t recognize him at all. He certainly wasn’t the Hunting Fox, so that left him a complete unknown. He likely was here to track down Shāng Bù Huàn much as she had been, which meant an additional challenge to getting that Sorcerous Sword Index. She wouldn’t let some filthy imperial get to it first.

She sat on a roof in the small town, observing the sorcerous sword in her hand. It certainly held the dark magics that one normally did, but she had yet to figure out what it could actually do. It hadn’t spoken to her, but that was a rare trait to have a sword with a will. It didn’t seem to enthrall that imperial when they fought. She didn’t get a chance to stab him with it or touch him, so she wasn’t certain if it were touch-based. It could create hail for all she knew. Some of them required spells or spoken commands to activate them. She didn’t know the sword’s name, not that those pesky seal guardians were willing to give it to her. She killed them anyway.

It was time to test it out. An entire village lay at her fingertips.

She leapt off the building, plunging the sorcerous dagger into the first man she could grab. It was certainly sharp, not a sword that was activated by touch. But sadly, he simply died. No special effects, no sorcerous power. Nothing. Was it possible this was a fake?

She watched as the villagers scurried away in fear. Fake or not, she could always use these people to feed her caterpillars and harvest beautiful butterflies from them. She grabbed several, plunging the dagger into their backs. Each one simply died as if by a normal sword. This sorcerous dagger still hadn’t shown its power. Perhaps it demanded more blood.

She drew the dagger back, reaching for the closest screaming villager then leaping backwards as a sharpened sonic attack screamed past her. She knew that attack. That bard was here.

He wasn’t hard to spot, standing at the village’s edge with his fingers poised over the pipa’s strings. He stood out like a bright red flower in a sea of drab, scattering villagers.

“So you’ve returned for more?” Lì Húdié taunted him.

Làng was unfazed by her words. For him, evil had to be punished and his companion was unlikely to disagree given the bodies at her feet. The blade she held in her hand wasn’t the curly one that she’d used to try to assassinate Juǎn Cán Yún in their battle at the Vermillion Fortress. That dagger was likely stolen from the Fortress.

“Testing that thing out on people? How low can you get?!” Líng Yá seethed.

She didn’t particularly care for that pipa’s insulting mouth. She turned towards the red bard. He was a challenge, but she could overtake him. She leapt forward, dodging the rapidly flung sonic attacks. They were wide and powerful, but he was purposely avoiding any location where people were. She plunged the sorcerous dagger into another helpless victim’s back, watching him crumple to the ground. She’d provoke the bard into approaching.

And it worked but probably not as she expected. He dove at her with the pipa, using it as a weapon much as he’d done in the Vermillion Fortress. The sorcerous dagger had given her a disadvantage as the pipa had a much longer reach.

Using the sorcerous dagger to attack, she summoned her curly antenna sword and swung it downward. Her attack was blocked but not by Làng. Another had joined the fray. Lì scoffed. This man had incredible qi. This had to be Shāng Bù Huàn. She was hoping she’d corner Làng alone then string him up, partially sacrificed to her precious butterflies, using him as bait to attract and hinder Shāng in a battle.

Unfortunately Làng was still completely whole, neither consumed nor sacrificed, and perfectly capable of combat. This mucked up her entire afternoon plans. She still had no idea what this sorcerous dagger did other than stab people, nor was she certain it was even legitimate. Now she had two of the biggest threats to her master countering her.

“You could make this easier on yourself and just hand over the sorcerous sword,” Shāng suggested.

Was he mocking her? She scowled at him as she leapt backwards and out of at least Shāng’s range. “Over my dead body!”

Shāng sighed, frowning just a bit. “A pity. They’re always so willing to throw their lives away.”

“Did you expect anything less from one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s lackeys?” Líng Yá pointed out.

“Well, all things considered…” Shāng recalled how Xiē Yīngluò had cast off her evil ways, willing to do the right thing after shaking free of the Seven Blasphemous Death’s control. Things didn’t quite go her way and Lóu Zhèn Jiè ended up killing her, but if she had lived, she might’ve had a normal life in Dōng Lí.

Even Làng had felt pity for how that all turned out.

Lì Húdié didn’t care for whatever they were talking about. She could leave with the sword, but there was an opportunity in front of her. Shāng Bù Huàn and his Sorcerous Sword Index had shown up. If she could take both of them down, she could return home victorious. And with an open-air market, there was no roof to fall on her head this time.

Kicking a nearby bench sideways, she punted it at them. Carefully, she laced the bench with dagger-like butterflies trailing close behind it. She may not know what the sorcerous sword did, but she wasn’t without her tricks. They were stronger, but she was smarter.

Or so she thought.

Shāng easily sliced through the bench with his blade. He would’ve been speared by the dagger butterflies had it not been for Làng’s sonic attacks quickly knocking them off their path.

She scowled. Làng was seeing through illusions again, but faster than she expected. A table should’ve blocked his vision, but he’d seen them anyway. Just how was he doing it?

She leapt backwards as Làng fired off more sonic attacks. She responded by flinging bowls of noodles and fresh shaobing bread to cloud their vision. The attacks impacted the food, sending it in all directions. But as she moved and hid behind a cover of shattered noodles, that bard was somehow still following her movements accurately. The next attack nearly took her leg off if she hadn’t leapt backwards to avoid it.

Shāng thought back to what Lǐn Xuě Yā had told him. Lì Húdié was injured when she encountered him in the forest. It couldn’t have been much after Làng had dropped a roof on her to protect Juǎn. That was rather recent, but judging by her movements, she had healed since then. Quite well, all things considered.

Stepping backwards, Shāng drove his foot into the broken bench. Lacing the wood shards with qi, he fired them off at her. They impaled the food stalls as she moved, driving themselves clear through the wood more than a sliver should be capable of doing.

Lì leapt onto the food stall with a sharp frown. She had heard about Shāng’s qi mastery. She had only felt a burst of it when he fired off the shards before it quickly quieted. His abilities were certainly no joke.

She didn’t have much of an opportunity to consider a new plan of action as Làng fired off several sonic attacks at her. She’d been chased halfway around the bazaar and the pair had barely moved. Was this why Xiē Yīngluò had so much trouble with them? This was starting to tick her off. With the pair of them standing together, it was putting her at a disadvantage. They were silently working together, and she wasn’t certain how they were doing it so easily. Not even the pipa had said anything.

As she landed, something came to mind. They  _ had _ a weakness. She noticed it earlier. Làng never fired a sonic attack where there was a villager. Given that Shāng was a goody two-shoes type, he would be hesitant to fight as well. She’d force their hand and take the Index.

Flourishing her hands, butterflies began to rise up and pour out of the buildings. The villagers quickly fled, swatting at the butterflies as they attempted to get rid of them. There was now chaos in the bazaar.

Shāng wrinkled his nose. This wasn’t good at all. They had to get rid of all these butterflies while also dealing with Lì Húdié. With a swipe of his wooden blade, he dispatched the closest butterflies. The villagers fled. He glanced over his shoulder. Làng was quickly following suit.

Lì was rather pleased with how distracted they now were, but she wasn’t pleased with how they were dealing with the situation. She’d have to deal with them personally. She leapt forward, aiming her long curly antenna sword at Shāng. Làng suddenly turned, blocking her attack. Did he  _ hear _ her over this commotion? Certainly he didn’t see her as his back had been turned. Was that it? Was he hearing her?

No matter. She drew the sorcerous dagger from her sleeve and slashed at his arm.

He reeled back from the attack, the slightest gasp escaping his lips as he rammed his foot into her midsection. She stumbled backwards over a strange crack in the ground.

Làng stared at the wound on his arm. Nothing was happening. His energy wasn’t getting drained, he wasn’t enthralled. It hurt, and that blade was sharp, but he was still very much in control of his own senses.

Lì stared at the sword in her hand. Something had happened when she struck him with the sword, but she wasn’t quite certain what it was. The sword had reacted, reverberating in her hand. The sword hadn’t reacted that way when she struck all those villagers and plunged that dagger into their backs. She wanted to strike him again and again, to learn the power of this dagger, but now that he was on high alert, there was no way she’d get past those sonic blasts. And if he was tracking her by hearing her, it was doubly not possible at the moment.

But at least now she knew this sword was real.

She leapt backwards, landing on a food stall roof. She had what she needed for now. She would exploit whatever happened to Làng in their next encounter. Once she figured out what exactly happened. “I’ll leave you two with a little present as I take my leave.”

Flourishing her hands, Lì transformed the swarming butterflies into massive cocoons, ensnaring the villagers in their grasp. With a smirk, she transformed into butterflies and disappeared into the forest.

Làng glared at her as she left. He wanted to follow her, but he couldn’t leave the people like this, not with how dangerous the cocoons truly were. These villagers needed their help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what it could be. I wonder what the sorcerous dagger's power truly is.


	17. Cocoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cutting open a village-worth of cocoons is kind of gross

Lì Húdié had left them with a rather large mess. Her cocoons had ensnared the villagers, trapping them within their tightly wrapped leaf-like exterior. Làng Wū Yáo had seen what the cocoons were capable of doing. It was Lì Húdié’s cocoons that had digested and dismantled every guardian in the Vermillion Fortress, and she aimed to do the same to this village. Not that she’d stuck around to see her work, but something had interested her so quickly that she felt it necessary to leave.

Shāng Bù Huàn stared at the wound on Làng’s arm. She’d struck him hard, and Shāng could tell it hurt by the way Làng was gritting his teeth. But nothing further seemed to happen. Perhaps that sorcerous dagger she held was a fake. “Wū Yáo...” Shāng took Làng’s arm before the bard had a chance to object, using some qi to do a quick repair on it. It was just enough to stop the bleeding. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “We should get to work on these things.”

Làng nodded. They had to work quickly and carefully. The people were still alive in the cocoons for now, but he didn’t know how long before the cocoon’s effects set in. He certainly didn’t want to witness someone oozing apart and becoming butterflies and caterpillars again. That was unsettling enough to see once, worse to hear.

Snagging a knife from one of the nearby stalls, he carefully set to work. He had used sounds before, but it was to release the cocoons from the ceiling. The impact on the ground had opened them. These were on the ground, but it gave him an idea nonetheless.

Grasping the nearest cocoon, he pulled it at the top and sliced through the leaves. It quickly unraveled, the person trapped within sloshing out and sputtering. “Bù Huàn, cut the top.”

Shāng turned, watching Làng grasp another cocoon and cleanly slice through the top. Another person rolled out, and the bard helped him to his feet. Shāng turned back to his half of the village. There was no fast way to do this. It had to be done one cocoon at a time and there were a lot of them. Lì Húdié was causing a lot of trouble, especially if they couldn’t reach all the cocoons in time.

But there was another factor hanging on his mind. Yīng Shòu Liè. He had wormed his way into Dōng Lí’s offices, and while Lǐn Xuě Yā was likely keeping him busy, it was also possible that Yīng had sent out lawmen to watch for Làng. Lǐn knew that Làng had been at the fortress, who he was with, and where he’d passed through. There were eyes working against them right now. At any moment, lawmen could show up to ‘handle the disturbance, even though it had already ended.

Shāng frowned at the number of cocoons still left unopened. He wasn’t certain if Lì Húdié knew that Yīng was after them, but it wasn’t hard to guess. A Xī Yōu envoy in Dōng Lí wasn’t exactly after many things. But even with time against them, he couldn’t rightfully leave the people like this.

He heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he expected lawmen to have shown up. Instead it was some of the people freed, recovered but still sputtering a bit. Some of them had taken some knives from nearby stands and began to cut open the cocoons, mimicking both Shāng and Làng. Wordlessly they moved, cutting open the tops of cocoons and rescuing the people within.

Shāng was honestly surprised. After being attacked by butterflies and ensnared by cocoons, he expected people to flee. Many had, but a few stayed behind to help.

Làng welcomed the help. The villagers had gotten entangled in this because he and Shāng confronted her, and Làng was hoping to help them all. He didn’t like the idea of good people being hurt by such evil beings. Lì Húdié had to be stopped, but they’d need to take more allies with them. She was capable of more tricks than he expected, and she had a huge amount of control over her insect power. Làng could counter her tricks with his hearing, but if people got caught in the fray, they didn’t have much hope in taking her down. They’d have to plan this more carefully, especially if they wanted to evade Yīng in the process.

Speaking of which. Làng turned as a dozen lawmen showed up at the gates. And there he stood with a butcher knife in hand and the edges of one of the last cocoons in his hand with someone sputtering for air at his feet. The villagers Lì had slain were still dead in the plaza.

One of the lawmen pointed. “Stop right there, Làng Wū Yáo!”

“Wait!” one of the villagers stood in between the lawmen and Làng. “They helped us! They saved us from that crazy weird butterfly lady!”

“He’s fled Xī Yōu!” the lawman insisted. “We intend to send him back home.”

“Xī Yōu?” the villager questioned, turning back to look at Làng. “That’s impossible.”

Shāng sheathed his wooden blade. “That’s our cue to go.”

Làng certainly didn’t object. He plunged the knife into the wooden stand, heading towards the opposite exit in the market, skidding to a stop as lawmen swarmed the pathway.

“Stop, Làng Wū Yáo,” another lawman announced. “Come peacefully so we can return you home.”

“Screw off!” Líng Yá hissed.

Làng wrinkled his nose. His stance read battle-ready but Líng Yá was still situated on his back. He wasn’t certain what these lawmen would try or how much of a threat they would be to the people. Not that Làng had much faith in lawmen after what they did to the commonfolk in Xī Yōu.

The current situation didn’t exactly leave them with many options. They had just worked to protect the village from Lì Húdié, to free them from the cocoons threatening to digest them. A battle with the lawmen would only further harm the place. Even if Làng doubted they would be much of a challenge in strength. Quantity, maybe. Strength, unlikely.

It took him only a brief moment to map out the area with his ears. He focused on the sounds of footsteps, separating the panicked footsteps of the villagers from the marches of the lawmen. They certainly came prepared for a fight. What were they told?

He didn’t even bother tapping Shāng on the shoulder before suddenly taking off to the right. Shāng didn’t need a cue to simply follow him. He knew well how acute his hearing was and that Làng had likely found the best route out.

The red bard quickly leapt up and over the wall, landing in the forest just beyond. He could hear the heavy steps of the lawmen attempting to follow him. It was an odd thought to be chased like this because he was Làng and not because he was with Shāng.

Shāng landed, quickly following Làng into the forest. He glanced over his shoulder. “They brought a damn army. You’d think they were expecting a war.”

“I’m wondering what that envoy has actually told them,” Làng said. He skidded to a stop, Quickly pulling Líng Yá from his back, he fired off several sonic attacks that quickly felled the trees and blocked the lawmen’s path. Temporarily as they quickly began to climb over the fallen trees.

“It’s almost like they’re mistaking you for me,” Shāng commented, returning to flee into the forest with Làng. “Like you’re some sort of supervillain that must be returned to Xī Yōu.”

“Technically by association that isn’t wrong,” Làng pointed out.

“What happened to that deal with the pipe-smoking bastard?!” Líng Yá hissed, returning to Làng’s back as the bard leapt over a creek.

Shāng scoffed. “I don’t think this is his doing at all. Yīng must’ve spread word on his own, but to send this many? What, 20 of them?! Even for a disturbance, this seems like too much. He must’ve told them you were capable of fighting. How many left?”

Làng didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to answer that. “5. The creek slowed them down.”

“Dammit,” Shāng cursed. “This is going to make finding Lì Húdié this much more difficult.”

“What gave you that idea we got to that point?!” Líng Yá fussed.

“We’ll need to lose them. We can’t lead them back to the shrine. This way.” Shāng changed course, suddenly heading off down another pathway. They had to avoid other towns as well as anything that could tip them off where they were staying. This put them well off course, but he absolutely would not put the Dān Clan shrine in danger.

He’d explored some of the region after sealing away Yāo Tú Lí, giving him some insight on the terrain and the location. Not much, but it was enough that it would help them lose their tail. The region wasn’t heavily populated. A few towns here and there, a number of shrines. Some were seal shrines, others were just ordinary shrines.

Làng and Shāng soon slowed to a stop. Their stamina was much better than the lawmen, allowing them to lose them some ways back. Làng flopped down on the stairs to a small Buddha shrine with a labored sigh, rubbing at his face with his hands.

Shāng sat down next to him, placing a hand on Làng’s back. The bard didn’t need to say a word for Shāng to understand how he felt.

“I’m not returning,” Làng mumbled into his hands.

“I know,” Shāng said. “Not like I didn’t figure that out a long time ago. I could see it on your face even back then. That palace was a cage. I misjudged your intent at first, of course, but when I mentioned the princess, it was like your entire demeanor just shifted.”

“That was the day that everything changed,” Làng recalled, shifting to rest his arms on his knees. “The encounter that set everything in motion.”

“You hesitated that day, going back with the Hunting Fox,” Shāng remembered that day so clearly. “Your expression was just so miserable, kind of like it is now.”

Làng looked away.

Shāng laughed. “You think I can’t at least  _ somewhat  _ tell what you’re thinking now, even if you or Líng Yá don’t say it?” Làng obviously knew it with the way they wordlessly communicated at times, but Shāng still felt the need to point it out. He patted his friend on the back again. “Look, I still don’t know what happened at that palace, but whatever it was, it was bad enough that just the thought of going back has you upset. And well, the princess was - well still is - a sadistic monster.”

Làng never did speak of it. He wanted to put that self behind him, but there were times when he still thought about what he’d witnessed, the senseless death strewn across the ground and the evil that soaked the walls.

“We’re here for you,” Shāng added. “You got me and Tiān Mìng. And whether you realize it or not, Juǎn and Dān Fěi have become attached to you as well. If you ever want to lay low for a bit, just say the word.”

Làng shook his head. “We need to stop Lì Húdié.” He still wasn’t certain the sword she had stolen was really sorcerous, but it still hurt. He rubbed at his arm. “And if Lǐn Xuě Yā doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain, we’ll handle that too.”

Shāng frowned. “I know you and the Enigmatic Gale don’t get along, but…”

“The imperial,” Làng clarified. “I am tolerating Lǐn Xuě Yā only because you do.” He still wanted to take that man’s head off, knowing how much trouble that thief actually made for Shāng. There was darkness in his heart, and it irritated Làng. But right now, it was a truce out of necessity. Lǐn was busy trying to keep Yīng from getting at them. He just wasn’t doing the best job at it right now.

Shāng laughed, thinking of all the people he ‘tolerated’ recently that Làng would’ve wanted to outright kill. It would’ve made his journey when he first arrived  _ a lot  _ shorter. “Let’s take the long way back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lang is just not taking this well, but I imagine his tendency to bottle up emotions is getting the better of him. I do imagine the palace life was a bit traumatic so there's likely scars leftover he hasn't really addressed. Nothing like an imperial to dredge up old buried emotions.


	18. The western office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems the eagle and the crow are trying to outdo one another in a new location. Who will get the upper hand?

Convincing the western office that Guǐ Niǎo was an imperial inspector here on official business was child’s play, but sometimes Lǐn Xuě Yā liked an easy opportunity. He had left Yīng Shòu Liè at the gate, claiming to introduce himself to the office with official protocols. Said protocols involved some hallucinatory smoke that implanted knowledge of his identity in their minds and made them  _ believe it was true _ . Child’s play, but it was fun.

Yīng had honestly been impressed by how easily they gained access to the local records store but also somewhat confused. He was certain that something was off with this Guǐ Niǎo character, considering that he was perhaps an imposter of some kind. But the way that Lǐn had been welcomed into the building, it was either some really good deception or that Guǐ Niǎo actually legitimately was an imperial inspector with a strange sense of fashion.

Yīng peered at his companion who had busied himself with lounging in the window frame as he read over some of the scrolls. His speech was formal enough to possibly be an imperial agent, but everything else was far too casual and inappropriate for an official. Perhaps Dōng Lí simply didn’t have the high standards that Xī Yōu had. Yet being around the magistrate and the lawmen of this country, Yīng found Lin’s mannerisms jarring compared to theirs.

The Soaring Eagle was certain more and more that Lǐn wasn’t who he said he was, but he couldn’t trip him up or prove otherwise. For now, he had to simply play along and focus on completing his mission to retrieve Làng Wū Yáo. He did make plans to ensure this mission would not fail, and Lǐn seemed none the wiser about it. Perhaps he could coerce Lǐn into telling him the truth later, but right now, he needed someone knowledgeable of Dōng Lí with influence to make this all work out properly.

The Enigmatic Gale puffed at his pipe as he read over the scroll. It was a list of known organizations in the region, mostly thieves’ dens and smuggling rings. Several had been crossed off, noting that the lawmen had taken care of them. Lǐn hadn’t considered simply waltzing into an archive and reading the scrolls to locate his next target, but the organizations didn’t always interest him. They were often petty thieves he could easily swindle out of their goods. Lǐn was looking for something a bit more entertaining once he was done with Yīng.

He rolled up the scroll. “No mention of Làng Wū Yáo in this scroll either.” Not that Lǐn expected anything. Làng and Shāng were foreigners. Until Xiào Kuáng Juǎn showed up, no one knew anything about either of them and Làng was still relatively unknown. “We’re halfway through the records. What are you truly hoping to find here, Sir Yīng?”

There was a lot Yīng was hoping to find, even with the contingency plan he’d set in place. Perhaps he could even catch Lǐn in some lies to find out who he truly was or verify his identity. So far, Lǐn had spent much of the day with him in the records room, not even taking the offer for a smoke break outside. It didn’t leave Yīng any chance of looking up personnel records. “Records of local seal shrines, unusual activity with them, any mention of Shāng Bù Huàn or Làng Wū Yáo. I’ve found nothing useful, just more records of thievery by the phantom Lǐn Xuě Yā.”

Lǐn was amused at how often he appeared in records.

Yīng wanted to throw all the scrolls off the table in a fit, but he simply gently put the one in his hands down on the table. Shāng was a known villain in Xī Yōu, and Làng was his accomplice. The two had stolen every sorcerous sword in the country then suddenly disappeared. There was supposedly a third accomplice, but they were never mentioned by name or appearance in any of Xiào’s records.

According to the scrolls, seal shrines and unusual sorcerous swords were numerous across Dōng Lí. There were even records of demonic activity. But not a single record existed of Shāng stealing swords. Làng didn’t even show up once. He’d found out more about Lǐn Xuě Yā than either of the other two, still unaware that Lǐn was sitting in the room with him.

Ying’s primary target still wasn’t Shāng, but if he found one, he found the other. Làng was often close behind. And once he did, he’d take both of them down and offer the songbird to Cháo Fēng as he promised.

Lǐn watched him stew as he attempted to hide it. This was really getting to him, but Lǐn could see arrogance and annoyance still leaking out from behind that polite, frustrated facade.

Something occurred to the imperial. “A thought for you, Sir Guǐ Niǎo.”

Lǐn peered at the imperial with a bit of a hum. “Yes?”

“The name of Lǐn Xuě Yā is feared across all of Dōng Lí, correct?” Yīng questioned

“It is rather notorious for someone who doesn’t exist,” Lǐn confirmed.

“This thief’s name repeatedly shows up in records. Even here, I’ve found at least a dozen.” Yīng placed a hand on the scroll still unrolled on the table. “And it’s just a phantom name that has existed for some time, given the dates. However, since it isn’t real, there is a possibility that Shāng Bù Huàn’s thievery is simply mislabeled as he’s an unknown here.”

Lǐn nearly choked on his pipe. “That’s a rather intriguing theory, Sir Ying.” A theory that would likely have Shāng shouting til next week at how completely off it was. Lin, however, was amused.

“There’s a record on this scroll of several swords stolen from a vault,” Yīng tapped on the entry. “The thief entered without anyone realizing it, stole the swords, and left without a trace. The noble didn’t even realize they were stolen until he found that the swords left behind were fake. Shāng Bù Huàn isn’t known to leave fakes, but he is known to enter and exit nearly silently.”

Lǐn recalled that exploit. It wasn’t even silently entering. He just deceived everyone to gain entry then replaced the swords when no one was looking. A simple job, but it had amused him at the time. He altered the replication just a bit to tick the noble off and see how long it took him to notice the differences. “A detail that may suggest it’s someone else.”

“Not necessarily,” Yīng said. “Shāng Bù Huàn is an expert at getting in and out of palaces. One of our records state that he entered Her Majesty’s palace almost silently during one of Làng Wū Yáo’s performances. Had a distraction not led the Virtuoso to the hallways to fight him, perhaps the thief would’ve fled with the sword before anyone realized what happened.”

Lǐn was rather intrigued by this information. He knew so little about their past, and to think that Shāng and Làng may have started out on opposing sides. Quite the opposite of their current state, given how close the pair seemed to be. “Were there no guards posted at the time of the performance?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Yīng replied. “Làng Wū Yáo’s own voice enchanted the guards that far away, and they were attacked from behind in a dazed state as they listened to his songs.”

Lǐn had to admit the reach of Làng’s voice was impressive. He’d seen Làng win a singing contest with a dragon, but to know that his enchantments were that far reaching, it left Lǐn wondering what he could actually do with it. Part of him wondered what would’ve happened if he sang more than a few notes like he did in the Wasteland of Spirits. “Quite a powerful voice he has.”

“Long-reaching and overpowering,” Yīng said. “You can see why someone like Shāng Bù Huàn would want this power.”

“A reasonable desire for someone who wields an Index full of sorcerous swords,” Lǐn reasoned, though he knew that Shāng rarely ever used them. And he certainly didn’t use Làng for his voice. That goody-two-shoes was much too noble for something like that. “And Her Majesty desires him back for performances or to lock him away for how dangerous this voice is?”

“For performances,” Yīng replied. “Enchantments aside, Làng Wū Yáo is said to have the most pure and unparalleled singing voices in all of Xī Yōu. For Her Majesty, he is irreplaceable. Despite my best efforts to find a replacement, there are none quite like him. And it pains Her Majesty to know that her precious songbird is being used by the Sword-plundering Nemesis, Shāng Bù Huàn.”

Lǐn nearly lost it with the title. It was ridiculous.

Yīng had read the records. Làng suddenly declared he would go with Shāng and even somehow transformed his own appearance with magic. It was then he turned on Xī Yōu and mercilessly beat Xiào Kuáng Juǎn and his rather sizable forces alongside Shāng and someone else yet unnamed.

The personality change in the records still didn’t make sense. Làng Wū Yáo was easily manipulated and was originally going to be sacrificed in a glorious battle as Cháo Fēng so thoroughly enjoyed. Instead he proved himself unparalleled in battle and song and earned his title. There he stayed in the palace as Cháo Fēng’s prized possession, and Xiào was rewarded for finding him. Làng’s lack of will but desire to sing was noted several times.

It was that time he was taken by Shāng that must’ve incited the change. Planted ideas in his head, coerced him, something to the point that Làng said it was his own choice. Or perhaps the records didn’t tell the full story of the Court Virtuoso. Whatever it was, Yīng was intent on correcting this and returning the Virtuoso back to his rightful place.

“I will ensure that I reverse whatever that Nemesis has done and return Làng Wū Yáo back to Her Majesty’s care,” Yīng declared.

Now there was that misguided ambition that Lǐn expected from Ying. Lǐn looked up as one of the lawmen slid open the door.

“Pardon the interruption, sirs!” the lawman bowed deeply. “I have information for you, Sir Envoy!”

Lǐn turned to face the lawman. He didn’t request any information from anyone here. “Information?”

“Yes, Sir Guǐ Niǎo,” the lawman confirmed. “As requested, we have been seeking any unusual activity. A team has returned from a nearby village. A man matching Làng Wū Yáo’s description was spotted.”

Lǐn tightened his grip on his pipe. Yīng had sent the lawmen off to search without him even realizing it. Only for a very short while had they been separated before retreating into the records room. He didn’t even consider that Yīng would give a standing order like that, and that the local head would agree to it. This envoy was more clever than he gave him credit for. He wanted to crack that self-assured intelligent mind open and feast on his prey, but at the moment, that intelligence would be an incredible amount of trouble.

It left him concerned on how to deal with it, and he wouldn’t be denied his prey once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like the eagle is victorious this round, but this only complicates matters even more. Shang and Lang aren't supposed to be nearby but their paths have crossed once again. Uh oh.


	19. Remnants of butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin might just snap his pipe in half after this unexpected coincidence

“Làng Wū Yáo was spotted in a nearby village,” the lawman informed them.

“So he is still in the area,” Yīng Shòu Liè said. The Soaring Eagle had hoped that was the case, despite Lǐn Xuě Yā’s forces supposedly losing track of him. Perhaps this trip would be more worthwhile than he thought.

“There was unusual activity and a very large fight, so a large team approached,” the lawman continued. “It matched the activity you said to watch for. Làng Wū Yáo was spotted in the middle of the village with another.”

“Was he with a seal guardian?” Yīng questioned.

The lawman shook his head. “An unknown man. Brown hair, slightly graying, looks like a vagabond. I thought him one of the villagers until the pair fled together into the forest.”

Lǐn attempted to not tighten his grip on the pipe too much. This was an unexpected turn of events. Shāng and Làng were both close by, not that they knew Lǐn was in the area as well. The stop had been unplanned, as they were originally heading towards a village more east than their current location. It was a false lead, one that Lǐn had fabricated on the spot, but it had somehow turned into a real one accidentally. They must’ve encountered Lì Húdié in battle in the town. 

This was bad. He needed to prevent Yīng from encountering Làng, else the plan to steal his arrogance and toy with him as long as possible was going to blow up in his face.

Lǐn glanced at Ying, debating on what to say for a second. The imperial hadn’t recognized the description, likely never having met Shāng in person. Perhaps telling him who it was would deter him from pursuing at the moment. “Shāng Bù Huàn.” Lǐn could feel the annoyance radiating off Yīng as soon as he mentioned the name.

“I was hoping they hadn’t reunited yet,” Yīng frowned. This could be troublesome, as the two were known to be a formidable force. Not that Yīng thought they could beat him in a fight. Keeping them separate was simply ideal. “Was it just the two of them? No seal guardian? No blue-clad musician?”

The lawman shook his head. “Only the villagers were there, retelling a strange incident.”

“A strange incident?” Lǐn questioned.

“Yes, sir,” the lawman nodded. “They said that there was a strange woman there who had started attacking the village. The pair engaged her in combat and she trapped everyone in giant cocoons. As strange as it sounds, every single villager confirmed this story. They also said that the pair freed them from the cocoons before the lawmen had arrived.”

“Saving the people?” Yīng scoffed. “Unlikely for either of them. It must be some kind of ruse. Where are they now?”

“The team pursued them well into the forest, but they were much more formidable than expected,” the lawman replied. “They felled several trees to block the pursuing team before fleeing deep into the forest. I have a search team out, but there has been no sight of them.”

“Please let me know if you find anything else,” Yīng dismissed the lawman.

He bowed and shut the door.

Lǐn tapped on his pipe. This was unexpected trouble. Yīng had convinced the local head to fan out with search parties and even gave them accurate descriptions of Làng and the dangers he supposedly posed. He did it in such a very short amount of time as well. Lǐn hadn’t expected Yīng to be that convincing so quickly, but he didn’t have the fear of Xī Yōu floating around the office here. It was working to his favor, despite Lin’s attempts to keep him from watching the outside world. Perhaps it was some sort of natural charisma. Perhaps he had something to aid him. He didn’t smoke, so it wasn’t the same type of illusions that Lǐn himself created. Perhaps he had some sort of magical item on him much like Xiào Kuáng Juǎn’s glasses. Lǐn would have to keep an eye on this and steal whatever the source was when Yīng wasn’t looking. It could derail his plans even more.

Yīng folded his hands on the table. “Don’t be angry with me, Sir Guǐ Niǎo. I thought it best to comb the area just in case.”

“Angry?” Of course Lǐn was certainly irritated, but this was just a minor derailment of his plans. He could turn this to his favor. He peered at the rings on Ying’s hands. That was a large amount of jewelry for a humble envoy. He hadn’t really paid attention to it before. “Hardly. I am impressed by your ability to think far ahead. This is quite the contrast to the previous envoy who nearly had me killed.”

“Xiào Kuáng Juǎn was far too shortsighted,” Yīng said with sharp disdain. “Certainly why he fell to madness so easily after failing to accomplish his goals here.”

_ I’m quite certain that madness was always there _ , Lǐn thought to himself. 

“He had pursued the Virtuoso and the Sword-plundering Nemesis back in Xī Yōu, failing to retrieve either of them for so long,” Yīng continued. “He was quite good at gathering information, and his notes are well organized, but he never seemed to put two and two together, unlike what we can do now with the information brought back from the scouting teams.”

“Oh~?” Lǐn hummed, attempting to mask his irritation. “What are you thinking?” He wanted to pick that intelligent brain of his, see what he could tear apart when the time came right. And hopefully to derail Ying’s plans but not before that strategic mind figured out what he was doing.

“Làng Wū Yáo has been seen in Shāng Bù Huàn’s company, but not the other two,” Yīng explained. “Perhaps the seal guardian went back to his shrine, but that musician. They purposely left with her from that village. She has to be somewhere, indicating they have a hideout in the forest nearby. We find that, we find the Virtuoso, retrieve the Sorcerous Sword Index, and Dōng Lí will be one less troublesome villain.”

Lǐn had to play this right. The Dān Clan shrine was in the area, but not close enough that Yīng would think to look high up in the mountains. The Soaring Eagle seemed rather set on the idea, and it was honestly a logical assumption. Deterring him from the idea wouldn’t be wise, but a misdirection wouldn’t be too difficult. “That could be quite difficult to find around here, Sir Ying. The area isn’t densely populated and mostly consists of forests and difficult terrain. I do imagine that the pair used both to their advantage in finding a hideout.”

Yīng wrinkled his nose. “In Xī Yōu, they are known to move from region to region, though documents state that they did once have a very remote hut as a hideout for some time. The one time my predecessor actually figured something out properly.”

Standing up, Yīng rummaged through the shelves, pushing scrolls around until he found what he wanted. He placed the retrieved scroll on the table, unrolling it and placing some of the wooden scrolls on the edges.

Lǐn hopped off his perch on the windowsill, settling down at the table next to him. He wanted to see where this was going.

The map was local, showing the Vermillion Fortress at the very edge along with several isolated towns. The mountain range stretched off the edges, pushing the Dān Clan shrine barely at the corner edge of the map.

Yīng frowned. This place really was in the middle of nowhere, just like Lǐn had said. “They could have a remote camp set up anywhere around the area. Shāng Bù Huàn is rather artful at dodging search parties, but now they’ve been approached, they may have moved. Do you know of any natural features that might be good at hiding a group?”

He peered at Lin. As much as he was suspicious of him at the moment, he still needed the man to give him information and hope that something would actually lead them to the right location.

Lǐn couldn’t admit to being intimately familiar with this particular area. There wasn’t a lot of activity in the region that interested him. Not many towns, just a fortress, lots of trees that could be used for cover, but otherwise the area was remarkably boring. The ordeal surrounding the Dān Clan shrine was most of his experience with the place. But given that he was accustomed to hiding things, he had some ideas. And with these ideas, he could misdirect Yīng from the actual location where they were and aim for a place where they  _ could be _ .

“Hmmm,” Lǐn hummed. “I’m not as familiar with those sorts of features, but if I were some criminal,” which technically he was, “I would locate around here.” He tapped the river cutting through the local region. 

“A river?” Yīng questioned.

“Think about it, Sir Ying,” Lǐn said informatively. “This entire region is covered in dense forest. They know the lawmen are after them now, so they can’t go into town. Where do you go for resources? Rivers are excellent for food and water and concealing noise. They could stay there for some time, move along it, and we’d be none the wiser as they hid within the brush.”

Yīng folded his arms, considering the suggestion. He had to admit that Lǐn had a very valid point. Yīng’s head felt clear, so it didn’t seem like a misdirection either, not like whatever he felt near the gardens. Part of him wondered if he’d imagined it, lost focus due to being in a foreign land, but Yīng was  _ always _ in full control of his senses. That focus had gotten him this far in rank, even gained him approval of Cháo Fēng herself in a relatively short amount of time. 

“That is a valid point, Sir Guǐ Niǎo,” Yīng agreed. “We can focus our search there.”

“Sending out more lawmen to comb the area?” Lǐn questioned.

Yīng shook his head. “They’ve already been chased by them, so sending a force out would be too suspicious. Especially if Làng Wū Yáo seems to hear people so easily, just the two of us would be much more appropriate. Unless you’re not up for the venture.”

Lǐn scoffed. “Of course I am. I did say that I would do whatever was necessary to return the Court Virtuoso home, did I not?” And it was easier to misdirect him when it was just the two of them, perhaps inflate the ego, pick at his brain, figure out the best way to absolutely break him and steal his arrogance and that twisted mind. “Though you may not be so. Your usual shoes will work against you in this terrain.”

Another valid point. Yīng had to admit the formal shoes were not quite made for this sort of travel.

“Come,” Lǐn stood up. “Let us see what shoes are available from the armory here. I’d rather not have to haul you back over my shoulder with an injury.”

Yīng glanced at the map on the table before following Lǐn out of the room. If Lǐn was truly deceiving him, he was doing a damn good job at it. Yīng had to remain on his toes. Something still scratched at the back of his mind that said Lǐn was absolutely hiding important information possibly related to this mission. For now, he didn’t have much of a choice beyond trusting the man, but that didn’t mean he trusted him  _ completely _ . He’d find out what Lǐn was hiding sooner or later. He always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is referring mostly to the battle that took place of Shang & Lang vs Li Hudie. While they don't see any butterflies or encounter Li at any point, I just really liked the title and didn't want to change it when I was editing. The conversation is about following those remnants after all, the traces of Shang and Lang (who actually aren't in the river but in the shrine high up in the mountains. good luck figuring that one out, Ying!).
> 
> Lin is really doing his best at misdirection but it seems that Ying is really just smarter than he let on. I wonder how Ying really got the lawmen to hunt for Lang. Hmmmm.


	20. Empty lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need to complain about swords

“Man, what trouble,” Shāng Bù Huàn sighed. “I thought the Enigmatic Gale might actually be here again. We really could use some information on what the hell that was all about.”

Làng Wū Yáo glanced around at the lake. It was rather sizable with a single dock but no boat tethered to it. Not even a single boat was abandoned on the shoreline. It was simply a peaceful lake that reflected the sky and the sparse trees in the area. “Do you truly think he’d tell us?”

“Back when we were dealing with the Hunting Fox, I’d find him here and he’d let me know what was going on,” Shāng admitted. “It was all to screw with the Fox, of course.”

“That ended well for him, didn’t it?” Líng Yá recalled. “He had this huge bitch fit when we encountered him!”

“Given what followed after that, how Xiào had used the Night of Mourning on the lawmen he was once working beside, I’d say he cracked and Lǐn Xuě Yā didn’t get what he wanted.” Shāng sighed, pulling the sword from his belt and flopping down on the docks. He propped the wooden blade against the crook of his shoulder as he dangled a leg over the edge.

Làng paused for a moment, listening to their surroundings. The pursuant forces hadn’t followed them for some time, probably lost in the tangle of forest and misdirection. He pulled Líng Yá from his back, settling down on the docks and leaning back into Shāng. A rest would be good right about now. His arm still ached from the battle and he hadn’t had much time to actually repair it. He pressed some qi into it, slowly healing it.

“You know, I’m concerned,” Shāng confessed.

“Oh?” Làng questioned.

“Having an assassin that can ensnare an entire village is bad enough,” Shāng said. “A mysterious sword that could do who knows what doesn’t help make it much better. At least we know it’s not gonna consume your blood or entrance you or something.”

Làng stared at the wound that was closing up with the healing qi. “It could be a fake.”

“I thought about that too,” Shāng agreed. “It certainly does have a sharp edge to it, so it’s not another melted pipe. She doesn’t seem to have that sort of qi to turn anything into a sharp object else she could’ve weaponized those noodle bowls.”

“Noodle spears!” Líng Yá mused. “Add that to your skills.”

Shāng laughed. “I’ll consider it next time we have food thrown at us.”

“I wonder if its purpose has simply been forgotten,” Làng pondered. “Much as you said the sword at the Dān Clan shrine had been.”

“That seems to happen a lot here,” Shāng recalled. “I questioned Dān Fěi a number of times if the sword were real or not, and she was certain it was and what it did. Turns out the reasoning was completely wrong, but that one was real. It’s like Dōng Lí has forgotten specific details about demons in the last 200 years since the War of Fading Dusk, unlike Xī Yōu that very distinctly remembers.”

“And the empire uses that memory of the War against those who would protect the human world,” Làng frowned.

“Weather swords, possessive swords, enthralling ones, ones that steal memories. Even swords that we had no idea what they did but were definitely not good to leave in the empire’s hands.” Shāng frowned at the ever-growing list. “I’m honestly tired of all these swords.”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Bù Huàn,” Làng teased.

Shāng snorted, pulling at his increasingly graying hair. “I am old. Not like you’re getting any younger, either.”

Làng chuckled, amused at the thought. He flexed his fingers on his hand, feeling the stinging finally leave his arm. “I am not graying yet.”

Shāng laughed. “If this sword stuff keeps up, just give it time. Though by then, I think I’ll be fully gray from stress and responsibility. One day, we’ll be able to get rid of this Index safely, though with how touchy Xī Yōu is and how badly that went last time, it’s definitely safer with us at the moment.”

“Until then, the empire will pursue us to the ends of this world,” Làng said. He crossed his leg on the dock, cradling the pipa in his lap before plucking some gentle notes on the strings. “Though it is surprising I am the target this time.”

“That’s the second thing that worries me, honestly,” Shāng confessed less joyously. “I think that Yīng Shòu Liè is craftier than any of us expected. I don’t think the Enigmatic Gale wouldn’t send a scouting party after us. I’m pretty sure that’s the envoy’s doing, perhaps without Lǐn Xuě Yā’s knowing.”

“And you trust him to not send imperials for amusement?” Líng Yá questioned sharply.

“Enough in that regard,” Shāng admitted. “He’s said it before, neither of us has something he wants to steal, so screwing with us like that wouldn’t really do him any good. He’s more intrigued by the people Xī Yōu sends after us.”

“He’s using us to attract targets,” Làng frowned.

“We attract those pretty much without his help,” Shāng said. “In this case, I’m concerned about what that thief has learned about you. He still has said you have nothing to steal, and that he even likes you---”

“--I don’t like him---” Làng interjected.

“--but I know how you don’t like talking about what happened before you joined us.” Shāng sighed. “If he tries to use that against you, I’m striking him in the gut.”

“I thought you at least liked him,” Líng Yá said.

“Enough to let him handle our imperial problems,” Shāng admitted, “but if he tries to use your history against you, everything is off the table. He can stoop low sometimes, especially with our travels to the Demon Spine Mountains, but I don’t think he’ll stoop that low. He trusted me enough there, and with his own actual name and his strange bizarre backwards plan, that maybe he’ll respect that supposed friendship between us. And if he ticked us off, well he wouldn’t have that prey he likes anymore.”

Làng shook his head with a bit of a laugh. “Perhaps that is enough to keep him tolerable.”

“That’s a strong statement coming from you, Làng,” Shāng observed.

“ _ Barely _ tolerable,” Làng reiterated.

“But that leaves us with a bit of trouble, doesn’t it?” Shāng sighed again. “They’re in the area somewhere, and that really limits our ability to search for Lì Húdié. And now they  _ know  _ we’re here too. The question is, how will they handle this information?”

Làng paused in plucking the notes. He knew what the Hunting Fox would do. Scheme, attack, try to trap them. Yīng was much more intelligent and conniving if he could possibly outwit Lǐn, if that was what had happened, which would make him an entirely different problem than the Fox.

Shāng frowned, knowing that Làng was trying to think about what would happen next. “Yeah I’m not sure either. It could go a number of ways. I expected the envoy to lead the assault, but it seems he sent out scouting teams. Maybe to flush us out, to see if we were in the area, where we were staying.”

“They certainly seemed ready,” Làng pointed out.

“Yeah,” Shāng agreed. “Best guess is they are in the area, not knowing we would be as well, putting teams out just to check out disturbances. Part of me wonders if encountering them was actually by  _ chance _ .”

Làng had to admit Shāng had a good point. It was very likely an encounter  _ by chance _ in a region they weren’t expected to be. Especially if Lǐn were pulling his usual diversionary tricks, the Gale likely hadn’t expected them there either. As much as he hated admitting it, this really didn’t seem like Lǐn’s work.

Shāng huffed a bit. “I had hoped to pick the Enigmatic Gale’s mind about this, but it seems he’s not gracing us with his presence. We should probably make our way back before the others worry that something really has happened to us.”

Làng nodded, taking to his feet. He plucked a few notes on the pipa. “Care for a travel song? It is one my mother wrote.”

Shāng tucked the sword back into his sash as he stood up. He was glad Làng seemed to be his usual self instead of trying to bury his face in his hands like at the Buddha shrine. “Always do. I’m always happy to hear them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am enamored with the idea that Lang is actually a chatterbox when he's alone with Shang and Mu. I wish we'd actually gotten to see some of that in current times instead of just hearing about it in the interviews. But it still amuses me that he can get chatty when he has something to say. And boy do these two have something to say. There's just so much going on, so many chance encounters and accidental intertwining. The question is, what will happen now on all sides after this last encounter?
> 
> And what is the true power of that dagger?


	21. Riverside Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ying and Lin journey into the forest, though their search for Shang and Lang takes an unexpected turn

Yīng Shòu Liè had thought this one through. His targets liked to move, but they had to settle down at some point. With the lawmen chasing them through the forest, it was possible that they had strayed away from camp or moved it, and if he was patient and waited a few days, they should have settled down somewhere. Làng Wū Yáo had been spotted in this area twice in a relatively short amount of time, so he was likely to remain here until whatever they were trying to do was done.

All he had to do was find them, defeat them, coerce Làng, and return home before the grand birthday celebration. It had seemed easy when he first arrived, but now that he was resorting to traipsing through the forest in a borrowed pair of red lawmen’s boots with a man who smoked far too much for his own good, he was quite convinced this was no simple job.

Lǐn Xuě Yā puffed at his pipe. They had been searching the creek for hours now, and Lǐn knew quite well that they weren’t going to find Làng or Shāng camping here. Despite what Lǐn had told him, Làng hadn’t been chased through the area before, leaving the sole true encounter a random chance. He also knew quite well where they were staying, and the Gale planned to keep misdirecting Yīng until the imperial finally broke.

Something crunched underneath his white boots. Stepping back, Lǐn noticed the same strange foreign-looking leaf that they had at the Vermillion Fortress and even at the town where Làng, Shāng, and Lì Húdié had clashed. There were more of the strange leaves scattered along the riverbank. He peered up at the tree. It certainly wasn’t from one of the local trees, but he found something that  _ did _ match. Cocoons. Several normal-sized ones hung from a tree branch, but this was the wrong season for cocoons.

Lì Húdié...

Lǐn glanced around. He didn’t see anyone else, but there was still a chance she’d leap out of a bush or a tree. Judging by the villagers’ stories, Lì Húdié was a much greater threat than Yīng perceived her to be. He entertained the idea that Yīng being defeated by someone he considered dismissable would crush that ego of his. He wasn’t certain if it would be as effective as if Làng defeated him, but it might be entertaining.

He puffed smoke at the cocoons, watching them wither and fall from the tree.

Something shifted in the bushes, and a blur of whites and oranges leapt out towards the unsuspecting smoking man. The assassin plunged the supernatural dagger into Lin’s shoulder. Or at least she  _ thought  _ she had. Lì Húdié gasped as the image of the white-haired man faded away like paper ripped apart.

“You are a troublesome one,” Lǐn hummed, tapping his finger on his pipe. “Lì Húdié, correct?”

She whipped around, finding Lǐn standing behind her, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed in front of him. He claimed to be a noncombatant last time they met, but now she was definitely sure he was more than he appeared. “Don’t screw with me!”

Lǐn smirked behind his hair. These assassins were capable of illusions, but he was just much better at it than she was. His illusions fooled all the senses so strongly that not even Làng’s supernatural hearing could break free of it. She had a long way to go to see through his tricks.

She seethed. He  _ was _ toying with her. All she wanted to do was draw some blood and either sacrifice him to a cocoon or find out what triggered the sorcerous dagger’s effects. She had to know if it was something unique to Làng or there was some other method of activating it.

Any plans of using Lǐn as her experimental target washed away as a large directed burst of qi crashed down the pathway. Lì Húdié leapt upward, landing in the branches as Yīng trudged forward in his borrowed boots, his blade drawn and outstretched before him.

Yīng had seen the strange encounter from further down the path. Lì Húdié leapt out of the bushes, clearly aiming at Lǐn but then he wasn’t there. Instead Yīng found him leaning against a tree with his pipe out almost like he was defending himself. “Are you alright, Sir Guǐ Niǎo?”

“I am unharmed,” Lǐn replied. He shifted his stance as Yīng approached, hiding the more smug look he’d given Lì Húdié.

Yīng glared up at the trees to the assassin. She seemed rattled by Lin’s presence, and Yīng was certain he’d briefly seen her plunge her dagger into his back. Perhaps it was quick dodging of some kind. Lǐn had evaded her attacks before, and for a noncombatant, he certainly was adept at it. Surely it wasn’t something more than that, right?

He could suspect Lǐn later. Right now, he had an assassin to worry about. This pest was getting in his way, but it told him something important. If she was here, then her likely target Shāng Bù Huàn was here as well. And since she happened to present herself to him, he’d simply take care of her for now. She was becoming more dangerous, and that could cause trouble for him later.

He slashed his blade, sending a qi blast upward and snapping the branch she’d perched on. He watched her trajectory, dashing forward to meet her where she landed. He lashed out with his sword, his blade impacting her sorcerous dagger.

She scowled at him. This arrogant prick of an imperial wanted to face her again, did he? Well she wasn’t injured from a roof anymore, so she could certainly take him on. She could deal with him then go after that annoying smoking man. She’d cocoon both and be on her way with more butterflies reborn from their rotting flesh.

She outstretched her hand, curling it as leaves began to twist around Ying’s feet. The imperial broke away from the clash, narrowly avoiding the cocoon’s grasp. He landed on the ground, slashing through the empty cocoon with his blade.

Summoning the curled antenna sword to her hand, she leapt at him, driving her blade downward. Her blade met with his as he blocked her attack. With her second hand, she drove the sorcerous dagger at his arm. Perhaps that would activate it much like it had when she attacked Làng. He countered by grasping at her wrist before she was able to cut his skin.

“You’re a troublesome one, aren’t you?” Yīng taunted her.

Lǐn watched as Yīng drove his heel right into her stomach, throwing her back several feet. Even without her being injured like before, Yīng was able to keep up with her pace. He had some actual skill to back up his arrogant claims, though Lǐn was certain that Làng could stomp him into the ground, Shāng without question.

But Lǐn knew not to underestimate one of Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins. Xiē Yīngluò had given them a great deal of difficulty with the sorcerous swords she stole and her command over poisons. Lì Húdié had a command over butterflies and a suspiciously sorcerous-looking dagger in her hands. Lǐn didn’t know the extent of her abilities or if that dagger actually had any power or not.

Given that she kept trying to attack Lǐn from behind, the Gale suspected she was trying to learn what power the dagger truly had. She also seemed to be using it more than her own sword or her butterflies at the moment. If that sword truly had some devastating power like the Seven Blasphemous Deaths, it could be trouble. Lǐn might need to make a rescue after a crushing defeat.

Lì Húdié leapt backwards, evading another attack. This was really going nowhere. Yīng certainly had more skill than she’d given him credit for before, but she was no closer to understanding how this dagger worked. The only time it worked was when she’d struck Làng in the arm, and she still wasn’t quite certain what it did. That bard had to be different somehow, and Lì Húdié would have to track them down to find out why. Or use him to get Shāng to surrender the Index. Or both. Both was good.

“This has been enlightening,  _ Sir _ Envoy! Next time we meet, you die.” Lì Húdié drew her hand over her body, transforming into a swarm of butterflies that dispersed into the brush. 

Yīng stood in the pathway, scowling at where the assassin once stood.

“Quite the impressive show once again, Sir Ying!” Lǐn applauded. “It seems you’ve chased her away, leaving her to spout empty threats. Do you plan on pursuing her?”

Yīng sheathed his sword, his pleasant demeanor returning as he turned around. The encounter was just strange. They were matched in sword combat, but she wasn’t using any tricks or insects Huò Shì Míng Huáng’s assassins were known to employ. She seemed more interested in Lǐn than Yīng himself. The Soaring Eagle was once again questioning everything about his travel companion.

“Not this time,” Yīng replied despite his better judgment. He still had the feeling that Lì Húdié would cause them trouble soon, but something else occupied his mind. “Her presence here told us something important. Her master desires the Sorcerous Sword Index and has likely sent her here to retrieve it. If she’s here, then Shāng Bù Huàn is likely as well.”

“And where Shāng Bù Huàn is, Làng Wū Yáo is likely near as well,” Lǐn said, already knowing that to be true.

“Exactly,” Yīng confirmed. “She attacked us, so she hasn’t found them. That means we’ll need to find them first.” He didn’t think that Lì Húdié was strong enough to defeat Làng or Shāng, but in the case she was, he had no desire to carry a dead Virtuoso back home to the princess. She wanted a songbird, not a body.

“Then let us continue our search,” Lǐn suggested. “To find the Virtuoso before she does.” He peered up at the withered cocoons in the trees. He knew Shāng and Làng weren’t nearby, so what was she actually doing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you all seen the announcements for Season 3? They're quite exciting! A demon in the ranks of Xi You's imperial court. Two of Huo Shi Ming Huang's assassins! There's a name for them now! I don't know what the Pinyin is just yet, but the translation is Demon Locust Sect. Makes sense since Huo Shi Ming Huang's name translates to "Plague of moths and locusts"
> 
> So that makes this fic very divergent, but I expected this. There's just a different poison in Xi You's court and that is Ying Shou Lie. The idea of demonic presence is tantalizing and kinda makes the conversation in the last chapter incorrect but hey, that was before the announcements! A fic author can have some fun, right?


	22. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juan might pace a hole into the floor

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor if you continue pacing like that,” Mù Tiān Mìng commented as she plucked the strings of the guqin in her lap. “There is no need to worry.”

“Not worry? Not worry?!” Juǎn Cán Yún threw his arms up. “They’ve been gone for  _ days _ ! I should’ve gone with them!”

“You weren’t healed then,” Dān Fěi pointed out, setting fresh tea and bread on the table. “If you had gone still injured, I would be the one pacing back and forth.”

“And this is Wū Yáo and Bù Huàn,” Mù added. “They are more than capable of handling themselves in combat. Something may have simply delayed them.”

Juǎn opened his mouth with a finger pointed, then simply huffed. He’d seen Shāng slice someone apart with his hair, and Làng could take a building down with sound alone. Perhaps he  _ was  _ overthinking this. He flopped down at the table, crossing his legs and leaning on one knee. Even with as powerful as those two were, he still wanted to be out there helping them out and defending seal shrines and sacred swords.

Mù sipped the tea offered to her before returning to pluck some notes on the guqin.

“I am curious, Lady Mù,” Dān Fěi poured a cup for Juǎn, pushing it across the table at him to hopefully calm his nerves. “Do you and Sir Làng play duets together?”

Mù smiled a bit at her formality. She was so accustomed to being called by her personal name by her companions, sometimes she forgot how formal others could be. “We do, yes. Music is how Wū Yáo and I first met. I was playing a song he recognized, one I did not know completely, and he taught me the full tune.”

“I thought his voice was sorcerous,” Juǎn said. He sipped the tea. It was helping but he was still concerned where the other two were.

“It is,” Mù said. “I knew that from the first time we sang together. He is aware of this now and rarely sings for anyone but Bù Huàn or me, as we are resistant to his voice’s power. Not everyone is affected, but he hardly wishes to take the risk and harm those he would consider friends.”

“That is thoughtful of him, though there is a part of me that wishes to hear him sing,” Dān Fěi admitted. “I am quite certain I’ve heard a song at night sometimes, someone singing from deep within their soul, but each time I get closer to the voice, it stops.”

“Definitely Wū Yáo,” Mù confirmed, plucking at the strings. “He often will find quiet and more secluded spaces to sing when there are other people around. He can hear you coming, know who you are by the sound of your shoes and even the way you walk. He’d likely stop if the footsteps don’t belong to Bù Huàn or to me. Don’t take offense to it. It’s just he doesn’t want his voice to affect anyone.”

Dān Fěi smiled, happy to know that the mysterious voice belonged to Làng. She still wanted to hear him sing, but she now knew he stopped out of being considerate. He always seemed so distant, but he really was thinking of everyone’s wellbeing.

Juǎn sprang to his feet hearing footsteps in the hallway and the door opening. “About time you both got back!”

“We took the scenic route!” Líng Yá exclaimed.

Juǎn wrinkled his nose.

“Well,” Shāng pursed his lips a bit, “Lì Húdié gave us trouble and fled, then we got chased by a large force of lawmen sent by Yīng Shòu Liè, took the long way to avoid any search parties, then ended up following some strange information that likely will point us to where Lì Húdié went after she caused us so much trouble.”

“Exactly!” Líng Yá agreed. “Scenic route!”

“You must be quite worn out from such an ordeal. Come have some tea and bread,” Dān Fěi offered.

Shāng and Làng settled down at the table, Juǎn following suit finally not pacing about. Làng reached for some bread, Mù quickly noticed that the white edges of his bracer had been dyed red with blood and a large cut in the fabric.

Mù grabbed his arm, carefully inspecting it and finding no physical damage had remained. She released it, shoving a fresh cup of tea at him. “It does seem like you’ve been through quite a lot since you both left.”

“That cocoon creep was the biggest mess!” Líng Yá exclaimed over Làng’s shoulder. “She struck Làng with that weird dagger but nothing happened other than a nasty cut.”

“A dagger?” Juǎn questioned. “She had a long curly sword when we fought her in the fortress.”

“We think it’s the one Lì Húdié stole from the Vermillion Fortress,” Shāng said, breaking the bread apart in his hands. “When she struck Wū Yáo, I thought I felt something, but nothing actually happened other than hurting a lot.”

“This guy really didn’t feel anything either other than pain from being cut by a sharp dagger,” Líng Yá spoke as Làng picked apart the bread. He was rather hungry from all the energy he used to repair his arm and travel on the scenic route.

“Could it be a fake?” Juǎn wondered.

“Possibly,” Shāng admitted. “It’s also possible that this sword does something we haven’t encountered before, and Lì Húdié is still trying to figure it out. But if it is sorcerous, it hasn’t really affected him the past few days since it happened. Wū Yáo is still Wū Yáo.”

Làng nodded. At first he had been concerned about the sword’s effects, but truly nothing had happened other than giving his bracer and his arm an unpleasant cut. He didn’t even feel the cut anymore, the qi healing it back to complete working order. No lasting effects, no strange feelings, nothing. It felt like he’d been struck and that was it.

But something had bothered him, something about what Lì Húdié did after she’d attacked him, and it wasn’t just the cocoons. The assassin looked like  _ she  _ had felt something after attacking him but didn’t act on it. He wasn’t really certain what it meant or if it actually meant something. She seemed surprised, but perhaps it was the same surprise Làng had felt. The dagger didn’t do anything unusual when it cut him, not that he noticed at least.

Shāng tapped the side of his teacup. “The problem is, Wū Yáo and I are both pretty sure that Lì Húdié believes that dagger has sorcerous power. The area isn’t densely populated, but there are signs of battle littered around the forest along with a number of cocoons. Small ordinary-sized ones.”

Juǎn shuddered at the thought of those human-sized ones in the Vermillion Fortress.

“I wonder if she must regrow her butterflies,” Mù pondered. ”I don’t think we’ve ever stopped to think about where they came from. Dark rituals, magics, or natural means. Cocoons in the forest at an unusual time of year might mean she’s trying to replenish her butterflies while learning if the dagger were real or fake.”

Làng nodded.

“Man, after those digested seal guardians at the Fortress, Làng’s considered that too,” Líng Yá informed them.

“Given the number of cocoons we found near the lake, this alone could be dangerous,” Shāng frowned.

“This guy already wants to take him down,” Líng Yá said.

“When you head out, perhaps you could take Juǎn with you,” Mù suggested. “He’s been pacing himself mad waiting for you two to return.”

“I-I did not!” Juǎn protested, looking rather guilty just saying that.

“Kid’s just itchin’ for battle, huh,” Líng Yá observed.

Juǎn huffed. “I don’t like sitting around waiting for things to happen! This assassin could threaten all the seal shrines in the area and cause so much trouble like with the Seven Blasphemous Deaths! Okay, maybe not that sword, but you get the idea. I got this place and my friends and Fěi to protect now!”

Shāng had to admit Juǎn had come quite far since wanting to simply just be a hero.

“I can certainly help defend the shrine here if anyone happens by,” Mù offered. “And it gives us time to get to know each other better.”

“And lest you all forget, I can fight just fine as well,” Dān Fěi added. “But I certainly wouldn’t mind getting to know Lady Mù better.”

“See? It works out perfect!” Juǎn said excitedly. “So I’ll go with you to help out!”

Shāng leaned on his hand with a sigh. “It’s like a kid begging for rice candy.”

“You know this’ll be a rough battle, right, Blondie?” Líng Yá said sharply.

Juǎn nodded. “Of course!”

“Well, we did want to take another with us just in case that assassin pulls any more dumb tricks again,” Shāng admitted. He knew Juǎn could fight, he simply didn’t want to face Dān Fei’s probably delicate but wrathful smacks on the back of the head if anything happened to Juǎn. “Alright then. We’ll head out tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love to entertain the idea that Juan is shounen stock hero with a lot of emotional depth, but he's still the sort that would pace a hole into the floor worrying for the safety of perhaps two of the most powerful fighters he knows.
> 
> I wonder if his dynamic will change in S3. Looks like he and Dan Fei get to travel again! I hope Mu does become friends with Dan Fei.


	23. Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep within the forest, a fateful battle ensues

Juǎn Cán Yún had been excited about going out and fighting this menace, but now that he was actually out doing it, he had some doubts. What if something happened to him? Lose a second eye? Maybe a leg. Or worse, be ensnared by some sorcerous dagger or die. No, he couldn’t think like that. He made himself out to be so confident in front of everyone, including his dear Dān Fěi, he had to stay that way else something  _ would _ happen. He didn’t want to be the guy they kept carrying back to the shrine over their shoulders each time. He didn’t want to be a burden in battle, even though he still felt a little shaky about his swordsmanship.

Traveling to the location took some time, traversing dense forests down the mountainside, over a river, out of the forest then back into it, past a lake and a mossy Buddha shrine. They had reached the forest’s edge where Shāng and Làng had seen the greatest concentration of the cocoons. 

Shāng Bù Huàn peered up at the cocoons in the tree. If they were linked to Lì Húdié, they could potentially use them to attract her attention. They were far enough away from a local town that she wouldn’t be able to use them as shields or prey. “Hey, Wū Yáo. Feel like stirring up some trouble?”

Làng Wū Yáo peered up into the tree, thinking much the same as Shāng. Pulling Líng Yá into his arms, the bard fired off several sonic attacks, prying the cocoons from their perch and slicing them up. Immediately he could hear something stir within. The sound of dozens of flapping wings and the sound of heels in the trees.

Lì Húdié peered at them from the safety of the forest high up in the trees. Perhaps they had realized she was hanging cocoons around the forest to replenish her butterflies. Her current stock of butterflies had withered and died from being molded into cocoons or sharp daggers and weaponry. But that was the beauty of a butterfly. When one died, it left behind its young so the cycle would begin anew. A pity these people didn’t see the beauty in this.

Also a pity that it left her without a large store of them and they had arrived before they had a chance to finish their transformation and emerge. That suspicious white-haired man had attacked her cocoons as well, leaving her to wonder if somehow they were working together. Didn’t seem right given since they were on opposite sides.

But pondering aside, they had brought her target. Làng Wū Yáo, that bard who somehow had caused the sorcerous dagger to respond. She had to know the reason why it reacted, to learn the dagger’s secrets, then use it to absolutely destroy them and force Shāng to hand over the Sorcerous Sword Index.

They had another interesting companion. It was that blond kid that had been with Làng at the Vermillion Fortress. A strange choice given that she’d already handled him before, but that gave her an idea. She could single him out, take him down, then focus on the more troublesome two.

Làng took several steps back, easily avoiding the hundreds of butterflies now pouring out of the forest.

“Well I think ya got her attention, man,” Líng Yá commented.

Shāng stepped back, grabbing Juǎn by the collar.

Làng kept his ears open, listening to the shifts in sounds. This was just a distraction. Lì Húdié hadn’t yet left the forest. He turned towards the branches, firing off several sonic blasts where she stood.

Lì scoffed, leaping from the branches and becoming a cluster of butterflies. Làng was even more of a threat than she had reasoned. She still wasn’t certain how he knew she was there, but she wouldn’t give him the opportunity to attack again. She had a different target in mind.

She landed in the middle of the butterfly wall, her feet touching the ground as she commanded her precious butterflies to spread out and encircle Shāng and Làng. She kept herself hidden enough that Làng’s attempts to break through the butterflies were falling short.

Làng leapt backwards, avoiding a cocoon shape emerging from the ground. That assassin was up to something, and it wasn’t just her cocooning tricks. He took to a knee, firing off successive wide blasts of sound towards the sound of heels. These butterflies were likely limited. She would run out of them eventually.

Shāng drew his wooden blade, hearing the sound of the pipa’s attacks over the swarming butterfly wings. He swung at the butterfly tornado, using his qi to slash through them easily. They certainly weren’t attacking him yet, mostly a nuisance, but if Làng was attacking so aggressively, it was possible he realized something that Shāng hadn’t.

“We’ll need to reunite with Wū Yáo,” Shāng informed his companion. “I got a bad feeling about what she’s planning.”

“We’ll fight through this mess!” Juǎn didn’t hesitate to draw his blade. This wasn’t exactly the type of attack that he was expecting, but his companions had said to expect  _ anything _ . This really classified as weird, but it seemed better than dealing with human-sized cocoons containing digested seal guardians inside.

_ No, focus on the butterflies, not that, Cán Yún!  _ he chided himself. This assassin was tricky, as he honestly expected an assassin to be. Shā Wú Shēng seemed to be different. Just his presence tended to strike fear in his opponents and he could back up his threatening presence with actual deadly combat. To think Juǎn once thought he could take on Shā Wú Shēng alone. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so ambitious to come to this battle, but it was too late for regrets. It was time for action.

“Dān Style: Clouded Sunrise!” Juǎn ran his finger along the blade, raising it up towards the sky. The spell circles grew upwards, firing off one singular missile. It was nothing close to what Dān Fěi was capable of creating, but he was still trying to figure out how to use it properly. All he needed to do was hit once. And sure enough, the large magical missile struck the butterflies, the wall opening wide.

But perhaps that was a mistake.

Before him stood Lì Húdié, the sorcerous dagger drawn with a murderous rage in her eyes. Juǎn glanced behind him only to find that the butterfly wall had closed and separated him from Shāng and Làng. No time to worry about that now. He had to fend for himself.

As she struck at him, he found himself much lighter on his feet thanks to the training he’d done with Làng. He spent several nights practicing after that, perhaps out of a desire to not be left behind but probably also something to keep himself from pacing and making Dān Fěi worry. He did want to master the Dān Clan style, and that required understanding the sword better.

He blocked her attack with the dagger, feeling the balance of his stance. That balance kept him on his feet as she drove her boot into his midsection. He took several steps back, drawing out his blade once again as he winced a bit from the impact. Heels between the ribs never did feel good.

Juǎn drew his finger along the blade, but before he could utter a command, Lì Húdié dove at him again. He had range advantage but it didn’t seem to matter when someone more  _ experienced _ at a blade was trying to drive one through him. He had no desire to die. He parried her attack, swinging to retaliate but nearly received a dagger through the ribs. Was she trying to learn the dagger’s sorcerous power, if it had any, or was she just trying to kill him?

He stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding butterflies dive bombing at him. She was definitely trying to kill him. Perhaps she wanted to sacrifice him to a cocoon. He really didn’t like the idea of being digested and turned into caterpillar food at all.

Làng’s ears heard the battle raging on. It was the distinct sound of metal striking metal. Lì Húdié must’ve singled out Juǎn as Làng didn’t hear Shāng’s sword at all. Even when channeling qi through it, it still made sounds distinctly wooden.

He needed to break free of this tornado. He needed to take down Lì Húdié.

Dropping Líng Yá to the ground, the impact created a sonic boom at the butterflies trying to close in on him. There was certainly one good way to deal with pesky insects. Placing a hand on the pipa’s head, Làng transformed him to sword form. He didn’t often use such attacks, but now seemed like a time to use a bit of fire.

Grasping the blade’s hilt, he opened his mouth.

Lì Húdié gasped as she leapt backwards. The dagger began reacting to something, resonating in her hand before turning an unnaturally pure white.

Juǎn stared, gawking. “What the hell?” That dagger  _ had  _ to be sorcerous. Normal ones didn’t just change colors randomly, but Lì Húdié seemed as surprised as he did. It wasn’t their battle activating it. Something else did.

And that source just happened to be near them. Làng opened his mouth, beginning the commands for a fire attack. “Firebir-----” He reached for his throat, feeling it burning as a massive sonic wave burst from within him with a deafening bang. The wave crashed through the butterflies, shattering them on impact. The trees nearby met the same fate, blowing not only the leaves from the trees but shaking apart the trees themselves. The land had reacted, cracking as the grass was blown away from it. Everyone nearby was knocked down, their arms and legs cut deeply as the sound pushed them backwards.

He could feel something react deep within him, centered on his throat. He felt like he would throw up at any moment, but that massive sound had come right from him. He felt it. He  _ heard _ it, and even his own ears were ringing. He fell to his knees as they became weak beneath him. He leaned on Líng Yá’s sword form with one hand, the other clamped over his mouth as he struggled to see straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next inspired this story. 
> 
> I wonder what caused this reaction. What is the sorcerous sword really capable of doing?


	24. White qi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lang is down for the count, but so is everyone else

Shāng Bù Huàn’s head was spinning. He’d never heard such a loud noise before. It filled his head with ringing and nothing else. His ears had begun to bleed down the side of his face. He wiped the blood away with his sleeve, forcing some qi into his head to try to stabilize himself.

He turned, finding Làng Wū Yáo nearby, now visible without the butterflies swarming about. Làng’s expression read horrified as he clamped a hand over his mouth. Shāng had never seen Làng visibly shake before. This wasn’t good. Shāng had to act fast while Lì Húdié was also staggered.

Shāng quickly threw Làng over his shoulder, the bard making no objection as he tightly grasped Líng Yá in his hand. Làng pressed his face into Shāng’s back, grasping Shāng’s robe with his free hand. His throat burned. His entire body hurt as if something had gotten inside of him when he opened his mouth and it caused him to lose control of his voice. He wasn’t thinking straight. His mind was a jumble, but he trusted Shāng to take care of him and handle whatever happened.

Shāng found Juǎn Cán Yún stumbling about and grasping his head nearby. He drove some healing qi into the back of the blond’s head before snagging him on the back of his robe. 

Juǎn turned, finding Làng dangling over Shāng’s shoulder clearly in pain. With shaky hands, he sheathed his sword, following Shāng past the shattered trees and into the forest. As they traveled deeper within the forest, Juǎn began to feel his hearing come back. At first it was a murmur of their movements, but he began to hear their steps and the trees rustle and the river nearby. He finally could hear something other than ringing and that horrifying bang repeating itself within his mind.

Shāng landed near the river, gently placing Làng on the ground and propping up against the tree. Làng immediately released Líng Yá, the pipa returning to instrument form, and grasped at his chest and throat. It still felt like something was burning inside of him, and it only felt like it would get worse.

Shāng had never seen his friend like this. He gingerly propped the bard up, placing a hand on his back and trying to heal him with some qi. “What happened, Wū Yáo? I’ve never heard your voice sound like that before.”

Làng shook his head, grasping at Shāng’s sleeve. He refused to say anything. With a shaky hand, he reached over and plucked one of the pipa’s strings. He couldn’t open his mouth. Líng Yá would have to speak for him.

“He said he opened his mouth and suddenly bang,” Líng Yá translated. “Something is burning inside him, man. He can’t get it out. He has no idea what happened, but man, I’ve never felt something like that from him before. He doesn’t want to open his mouth. He’s… afraid to.”

Shāng knit his brow at the description. He knew Làng’s voice to be powerful. He’d seen it do some amazing things with the bard’s ability to manipulate the supernatural power he naturally had. He still didn’t understand how it worked, but he did understand that this wasn’t Làng’s fault. “I know you well enough to know that something external caused this. Hopefully stopping that burning feeling will get you back to normal.” He kept his hand on Làng’s back, manipulating qi to try to relieve the burning sensation.

Worry and horror twisted itself across Juǎn’s face. He knew that Làng was different from them, but something had caused this to happen. Làng looked terrified, and Juǎn hadn’t once seen any sign of an expression other than calm across his face before.

Làng felt the burning sensation travel upwards, trapping itself within his throat. He clamped both hands over his mouth but all he wanted to do was throw up. Opening his mouth caused this, but the sensation had become so overwhelming, he didn’t have a choice. He leaned over, retching some unnatural white goop on the ground that burned the inside of his mouth as it left him. He coughed and sputtered as Shāng held his hair and robes back and out of the way.

The strange white goop fizzled into the ground before disappearing.

As the burning sensation finally left him, Làng collapsed into Shāng’s supporting arm.

Shāng stared at the ground, supporting his unconscious friend. “That was definitely qi, though I don’t think I’ve seen it manifest like that before. Something had trapped itself inside Làng’s throat, but there was nothing where we were.”

“There… there might’ve been, actually. I saw something right before the bang,” Juǎn said. “The dagger that Lì Húdié had turned unnaturally white suddenly, that same color that Làng just threw up.”

Shāng frowned sharply as he leaned Làng back against the tree. Placing a hand near Làng’s throat, he used some healing qi to hopefully lessen the pain. “That dagger definitely is sorcerous and dangerous.”

“I don’t understand how it affected Làng when she was fighting me,” Juǎn admitted. “Well she wanted to kill me with it, but it caused Làng to just explode.”

“I have an idea,” Shāng said, continuing the healing work. He had to make sure Làng would be stable enough to endure the trip back up the mountain to the shrine. “Wū Yáo isn’t quite like us. He’s born with a very strong supernatural power that he’s learned to channel through his voice and hearing constructively. He’s the closest example of a living, willful supernatural blade.”

Juǎn stared at Shāng then at Làng. “A living blade? But he’s a person.”

“He is, and we’ve always seen him that way,” Shāng said. “Tiān Mìng sensed it when she first met him, as did I much later on. His song had nearly entranced me when I had gone to steal a dangerous sword from the palace.”

“He can affect even you?” Juǎn questioned, surprised. Shāng was easily the strongest person he knew.

Shāng nodded. “He can, though Tiān Mìng and I have long since understood how to resist its power. The effects vary and not everyone is affected, but mostly Làng just doesn’t talk in order to control his voice’s effects. Even words can sometimes affect people if he’s not careful.”

Juǎn was finally understanding why Làng was the way he was. He had to deal with a voice that could entrance and affect people, something that he was born with. It was like Mù had said. He sang only around certain people because he doesn’t want to affect them. He wanted to protect those he cared about and somehow Juǎn had become part of that list of protected people.

He crouched down, worried for the unconscious bard. “You think that dagger could manipulate supernatural power?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Shāng agreed. “You know how I suppress my qi when not in combat? Làng does something similar when he closes his mouth. It seals that power inside of him. At least that’s how I’ve come to understand how it works. When we fought Lì Húdié before, Làng didn’t say anything, but this time he must’ve tried to command a spell that requires a spoken word. He opened his mouth and that sword affected him. Corrupted his qi, replaced it, shifted it, not really sure. But whatever it did, he got it out and now he has to rest to repair it.”

“Man,” Juǎn rubbed a hand through his hair. He thought the battle would be tough and Dān Fěi would give him an earful about how he wasn’t careful. This wasn’t anything near that. This was a sorcerous sword manipulating sorcerous power dwelling deep within their friend. Sure what happened was frightening enough, but Juǎn knew that it wasn’t Làng’s fault.

“How are your ears?” Shāng questioned him.

“Better,” Juǎn replied. “Still some ringing.”

“Good.” Shāng’s ears were much the same. “With the imperial forces searching this forest, we can’t stay long here. That bang was pretty loud. It’s possible they’re already heading this way.” He picked up Líng Yá, finding the pipa unscathed. Perhaps being in sword form had protected him from the noise, unlike the pair of them sporting a good deal of physical damage.

Juǎn frowned a bit. “What do we do about this stupid sorcerous dagger? That assassin can’t be much better off than we are right now but if she realizes what that dagger could do...”

“Lì Húdié would have no idea that Làng is essentially a sorcerous blade,” Shāng replied. “This isn’t common knowledge. And once we tell Làng what happened, he’ll understand how to handle this next time we do encounter her.”

Shāng didn’t want Làng to be worried over his voice more than he usually was. While there was still quite a bit Shāng didn’t understand about the dagger or Làng’s power for that matter, he did know that Làng was just fine during the previous encounter with the assassin without speaking. If he was aware of what triggered that sword, he could counter it easily and Làng was an expert at not talking.

“Let’s get him back for now,” Shāng added. “He needs rest.”

Hearing rustling in the bushes, Juǎn suddenly drew his sword. He was expecting Lì Húdié to stagger out at them or to be flooded with butterflies. Instead it was some strange foreign-looking man with long brown hair and far too much jewelry.

Behind him stood Lǐn Xuě Yā looking rather surprised by the encounter.

This had to be the imperial hunting Làng. This had to be Yīng Shòu Liè.

Shāng stared at him over his shoulder. This was bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh uh oh uh oh  
> It's Ying.  
> This probably won't turn out well.


End file.
